Abeth
by Jane Willow
Summary: About a year after Angel dies, the Renties stumble on a girl sitting on a crub and decide to take her in, and she learns what it means to live as if there's 'no day but today'. Some swearing. Reviews are the scarf to my Mark.
1. Walking Home

**AN:** I realized this story was getting waaay to long so I went back and added "**What I want you to take**" (short for "what I want you to take from this chapter") at the bottom of each chapter. If you're board with it, I take no offense if you feel the need to just scroll down and read my Cole's Notes versions of whats going on :)

* * *

"You _know_ I looked good."

"Maureen, it was leather."

"And that's hot, right?"

"I'm just surprised Joanne was caught dead with you in that thing."

"Shut up, guys. You looked great, Maureen."

"Thank you, Mimi. Now I see who my _real_ friends are."

"I was too wasted to remember that suit, anyways."

Maureen playfully pushed Joanne's shoulder. "You loved it. You told me so." She looped her arm through Mark's. "I looked hot, didn't I, Marky?"

Mark stared at his shoes. "Yes Maureen, but you know... I have that thing for cats."

Collins lit a cigarette. "Wait... he's kidding, right?"

Maureen shrugged, letting go of his arm. "Never told me about it."

"I was kidding."

"Oh, Mark," Roger sighed, "always such a laugh."

"Well, I was thinking that this year, I'd do a little navy outfit for New Year's. Whaddyah think?"

Joanne kicked an empty bottle off of the sidewalk as they passed.

"A sailor? What does that have to do with anything?" Collins asked.

Maureen thought for a minute. "Yeah... You're right."

"Why don't you just go as yourself?" Roger looked her up and down. "Could pass for a costume."

Mimi punched him in the shoulder. "Hey! She's a creative-stylistic-non-conformist."

"It has a name?"

"Wait... maybe Roger's right. I could be the dyke with the mic!"

Joanne groaned.

"Okay..." Mimi mumbled, "scratch 'creative'."

"No? ...okay, no."

"Hold up," said Collins as he flicked he cigarette butt into a garbage can they passed, "I wanna hear more about Mark's cat thing."

"What can I say? It's the fluffy tails."

Mimi meowed at him, clawing the air.

Joanne pulled her coat closer around her. "This better not be a play on the word 'pussy'."

"Haven't been a princess yet. Can you slutty-up a princess?"

Mimi waved her hand in the air. "Change of subject, please?"

"Cats."

"Wait, I want to hear more about this slutty princess," Roger smiled.

"Nawh..." Maureen said, shaking her head, "I'd just end up looking like a hooker or something."

Mimi groaned. "Are we there yet? My feet hurt."

"Just a guess," said Collins, "but it might be those twelve-inch heels you got on there."

"Hey," Maureen said, her face lighting up, "can I borrow them if I decide to go as hooker-princess?"

"I draw the line at leather-cat!" cried Joanne.

"You're the one who wanted to try this place," Roger pointed out.

"It was good, wasn't it?"

"Hey," Mark put in, "I offered to bring you guys one-by-one on my bike. You're lose."

"I got it! The Wicked Witch of the West!"

"Rog, give me a piggy-back."

"You're such a child," he said, lifting her up.

"You could be Dorothy!"

"No..."

"Toto?"

"Why don't you borrow Mimi's boots and go in your old costume?" Mark suggested.

"How would that...?"

"You could be Puss in Boots."

Maureen laughed. "Mark, you're a genius!"

"You just _had_ to go and encourage it," Joanne smiled, nudging him with her elbow.

He shrugged. "I do what I can."

* * *

**What I want you to take:** Happy Renties are walking home after dinner.


	2. Leaving

All she wanted to do was leave. There were so many people. Who would come here voluntarily? It was awful. It stunk. It was loud. She pushed her way through the crowd, trying to find the exit. Finally she made it to a door.

The bathroom.

"Damn it," she muttered, though no one heard it over the music.

She tried to see over the crowd of people, back to the bar where he was sitting. She hoped he hadn't noticed her wasn't back yet. She couldn't see anything.

The bass line of the same song that had been playing for nearly an hour pumped through the floor. Her head pounded and the pools of smoke and man-made fog didn't help much.

How the fuck do you get out of this place?

She turned around, pushing past random people, who pushed back against her.

A window. She was at the front of the club. Now all she has to do was find the bloody door.

A man stood in front of her, bottle clutched in his hand. He said something, but she could't make out what it was.

"_I can't hear you_," she yelled at him, but he continued to talk. She looked behind her. There was no one else he might be talking to. "_Where's the door?"_

The man reached out and stroked her shoulder. She slapped him and his hands flew up.

_"Dude, I don't even... _fuck it."

She pushed past him. She saw the door, a million people in her way. She was suffocating. Her mind raced along with the music and with every new upbeat she felt her heart thump against her chest.

Finally, she fought her way to the door, and burst out. She walked a few steps, trying to get away from the noise. She breathed in real air.

She looked behind her.

What if he saw? What if he followed her?

She kept walking. She had no idea where she was. She'd never been to New York before. Hell, she'd never been to the States.

It was freezing, a black skirt and red, lacy shirt wasn't the best thing to face New York December nights in, but she wasn't about to go back for her coat.

After a few minutes, she stopped to look around. He wasn't there, so she took a second to take in her surroundings. Buildings with blinking lights that looked like they were ready to crumble. Old cars in need of, if nothing else, a paint job. A pawn shop, a grocery store.

Tears formed in her eyes. She didn't recognize any of it. She had no idea where she was. Despite the fact that people moved all around her, she was completely alone. Where did she think she was going? The police? They'd send her back. A shelter? She had no idea how to find one.

Her feet killed. She could hardly remember the last time she had worn heels. Taking them off, she sat down on the curb. It was wet, but she didn't mind. Or rather, she didn't think of it.

She hadn't expected this.

* * *

**What I want you to take: **A girl has just sneaked (snuck...?) out of a club to escape someone.


	3. Meeting Abeth

"Well, I think it's nice, being able to have dinner without getting drunk."

"I'm drunk," she Roger flatly.

"Yeah, I know," Mimi said pointedly. "Remember a few feet back when you tripped over your own feet and nearly sent me flying?"

Mark laughed, quietly. "I remember."

"Hey," Roger said, defensively, "_you__'__re _the dancer."

"I think I'm drunk, too." Maureen shrugged.

"Think it's going to rain again?" asked Joanne, ignoring her and looking up.

"Always thinking ahead, aren't we?" said Maureen, mockingly.

"Hey, I just don't want to be walking three more blocks in the rain."

"Nobody brought an umbrella?" asked Mark.

"No worries," said Collins, "we'll all just hold out a piece of Roger's hair and stand under it."

"I'm getting it cut! Eventually…"

"Wonder what she's doing…" Mimi murmured.

"You should," Maureen put in, "it looked better short."

Joanne wrinkled her nose. "No way! Keep your hair, Roger. I like it."

"Well, thank you."

Mimi looked ahead of them. "Guys, do you-?"

"Jeez, Roger doesn't cut his hair for two years and no one says anything, but when I wear the same sweater twice…"

"It's an ugly sweater," Maureen said with a shrug.

Mark shook his head. "What happened to us?"

"_Us_?" she laughed. "What happened to _you_, man? You used to be cool!"

"Roger, stop." Mimi said, suddenly.

"What?"

She stopped walking and the rest of the group followed suit. She was looking at the girl sitting on the curb.

Mark sighed. "Meems…"

"What?" she whispered, "what if she needs help?"

"And what if she wants to be alone?"

"Maybe she's just… sitting there," Maureen suggested.

Mimi sighed. "Well, we can at least check." She took a few steps up to the girl. "Hey," she said, "you all right?"

The girl took a minute, then looked up. She nodded.

Mimi thought for a minute. "I'm not convinced. You need anything?"

The girl turned around, staring at the six friends. "Um, no. I'm fine…I'm just…lost, I guess."

"No worries, then," Mimi smiled, "we know New York inside out."

The girl smiled sadly. "No…that's not… It's okay. I'm fine." She turned back around and stared out at the road.

Roger took Mimi's arm. "She doesn't want us," he whispered, "come on."

Mimi looked at him pleadingly. He knew what was floating through her mind and, shaking his head, he let go.

Collins sat down beside her. "Nice view."

She smiled, sadly. "Yeah. I particularly like that plastic bag. Been watching it for a while now."

"Nice, nice. Really classy…" he said. He turned to her. "I'm Collins. Tom Collins."

"I'm Abeth," she said simply.

"Oh, short for Elizabeth?"

She shook her head and smiled. "No. At least, not that I know of. I was always just Abeth."

"Cool," he said, nodding. "You need a ride anywhere?"

"No."

"Good. We don't have a car between the six of us. Mark's got a bike, but…"

Abeth smiled, and turned around, staring to the other people behind her.

"Here, let's get names sorted out."

Collins and Abeth stood. Mimi squeezed his arm gratefully and smiled.

"Abeth, this is Mark, Maureen, Joanne, Roger and Mimi," Collins said, indicating each of them. "Everyone, meet Abeth."

"Hi…" Abeth said, giving a small wave.

"So, where you from?"

"Um, Chatham…Canada."

"What are you doing _here_?" asked Maureen, surprised.

"Good question…"

"Where are you staying?" Mimi asked, taking a step forward.

"Right here."

"Do you know all the words to O Canada?" asked Maureen. She felt everyone's glares. "Sorry…never met a real Canadian before. Not that I know of."

Abeth laughed, nervously. "Yes, I do."

"Bet you don't know the Star Spangled Banner," Collins said.

"Nope."

"'S okay. Neither do I."

"How old are you?" Joanne asked, looking at her critically.

"18..."

They all stared at her.

"Okay, 17..."

Still, blank faces.

"Well, I'm _almost _17."

Joanne sighed. "We need to take her somewhere."

"No!" Abeth cried. "Look, you never saw me, okay?"

"You a runaway?" asked Mark.

"Well…yes," she said, nodding to herself, "I guess I am." It felt weird, admitting that. It made her feel like a delinquent.

Joanne shook her head. "You need to go-"

"No, please, Look, it's a long story, just…believe me. I don't want police or anything…"

"Fine," Mimi said, "no police. But of you've got nothing better, then you may as well come and stay with us."

"Oh no, I couldn't."

Collins laughed. "Don't worry. You're already talking to strangers."

Abeth shook her head. "I just…"

"You just want to sit on the curb all night?" Roger chimed in.

Mark sighed. "Come on, it's going to rain."

Abeth looked up. "Yeah. I was worried about that."

"Come on," Collins repeated, nodding his head down the street.

Abeth sighed, then nodded. It's not like things could get worse. What's the worst that could happen going home with a girl in hooker boots and a guy who smelled like pot?

She decided not to think about it

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Renties take home the girl who ran out of the club, Abeth. 


	4. In the Loft

Roger dragged the cot out of the closet and unfolded it. Abeth sat by Mimi and Joanne in the sofa in the loft.

"Yeah, I work just over there at the Cat Scratch Club," Mimi said, almost forgetting the stigma that went along with saying that. But she never did forget it, entirely. It was always somewhere in the back of her mind. Of course, it really didn't matter. Abeth had no idea what it was.

"But Jo's the lawyer. Talk to her."

Abeth rubbed her forehead, trying to sort through everything that was happening to her.

"Why don't we do this in the morning,?" said Joanne, sensing she was still in no mood to talk. "Are you hungry?"

Abeth felt pathetic, like a child. "No, no. I'm fine." Watching Roger and Collins fighting with the cot, she smiled, and almost welcomed the feeling. It had been ages since anyone had looked out for her.

"So, you guys just happen to have a cot, or do you get a lot of stray teenage girls?"

Mark laughed, fitting something in his camera. "Actually..."

Abeth's brow furrowed. "Really?"

"Well...""said Roger, finally getting the cot to stand on its own, and out of breath, "first we met Maureen."

Maureen came out of the kitchen with three beers, handed on to Collins, on to Mark and kept on for herself. She raised her eyebrows. "Want one?"

Abeth shook her head.

"Then," Roger went on, smiling, "there was Mimi."

Mimi leaned over to Abeth and whispered, "but_ I_ didn't sleep on the _cot_."

Abeth laughed, feeling both awkward and, strangely, accepted.

"And," Roger said, flopping down in the chair, "you're lucky number three."

"Hence the cot, right?"

"Actually," Mark said, setting his camera down on the table and taking a sip of beer, "that's where Benny used to sleep. Way back when. But, that's another story."

Abeth nodded understandingly.

"When," Mimi laughed, looking at the dusty, worn out bed, "the 1800's?"

A stupid thing to say, she knew, but the subject of Benny still made her a little edgy.

Joanne rolled her eyes. "Don't quit your day job, honey."

Mimi stuck out her tongue. "I don't even have one, so...there!"

"Speaking of stories," Collins said, sitting cross legged on the cot and ignoring the girls, "you gunna tell us your's?"

Abeth sighed. "I'm still sorting it out."

What was she doing here? She didn't even know these people. But it was better then a curb. A little warmer, at least.

"Hey!" Maureen cried, setting her beer down, "I just got an idea!" Her arms flung up in the air.

"What?" asked Mimi, flinching away from her.

"Sleepover!"

Roger rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

"Come on, how long has it been since we had a good old fashion pillow fight?" She took another swig of her drink.

Joanne tried to hide a smile.

"It's not even eleven yet," answered Mark.

"Ugh... I'm old." He stopped up and walked over to Mark at the table, away from everyone. "We have any sheets?"

"Doubt it." He smiled at his friend. "Old habits really do die hard, don't they?"

"Hey, this is Mimi's's thing. I dunno... guess she just wished she had someone looking out for her when she was 16." He picked his guitar up off the floor and strummed it a few times. "What kind of name is 'Abeth', anyways?" He plucked out Muzetta's Waltz, absently.

"Apparently, not short for Elizabeth."

"How long do you think she'll be here?"

"We thought Benny would only be here for two weeks."

"How long was it?"

"Two years."

"Oh yeah."

Mark sighed. "Weird to think we were living on our own when we were...what...18?"

Roger snorted. "If you call this living."

Collins said something that made the girls laugh, but they didn't hear what it was.

"Hey, we've got power and we just had dinner. This is the high life."

Roger's beeper went off, suddenly. He dug in his pocket for his AZT. He looked at the girls on the sofa and sighed, worried. Maureen stood up and got two more beers. She kept them both for herself.

"Hey," Mark said, "_you're_ fine. It's worse for me. You're a natural with teenage girls."

He swallowed his pills. "All right then." He didn't sound convinced.

"It's probably the whole 'rock star' thing you've got going on," Mark continued. "You've got the 15-21 year olds in the palm of your hand."

Roger smiled and shrugged. "What can I say? When you got it, you got it. Let's just promise each other that neither of us falls in love with this one."

"Dude... that's statutory."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Secrets!" cried Maureen, "they're telling secrets without us! Get them!"

"Oh jeez, she's drunk..." muttered Mark.

"I'm gunna come get you..." she said, pushing a few bottles out of her way, "just as soon as I stand...up." She staggered to her feet.

Roger sighed. "She's kinda hot, though."

"Maureen?"

"Abeth. Moron."

Mark wrinkled his nose and punched him. "Gross."

"You punch like a girl."

"You have hair like a girl."

"Roar!" Maureen cried, leaping at them. "_Puss in Boots_!"

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Basically, Abeth is chillin' with the Renties.


	5. Morning Time

It didn't matter. Not really, anyway. It didn't matter where Abeth was, as long as she was away. And besides, these people were nice enough. Loud, yes. But nice.

That night had amazing her. They all spoke and moved as if they had rehearsed, knowing what to say when, smiling and laughing. Their voices were musical. She liked that. There was hardly ever music in Chatham.

She flipped over on the cot, which, amazingly, was even more uncomfortable then it looked.

She had no reason to worry. She'd find a job. Sooner or later. Something under the table, maybe. She didn't have papers or anything.

She thought for a minute. Did she need papers?

Probably.

She sighed. She was stupid. How could she live on her own if she never finished 11th grade? She didn't know anything about papers or money or jobs… But she couldn't live here, with them. And she couldn't go back there. The choice was made for her.

The sun was rising and light from the window on the opposite side of the room slowly began to bring colour back into the loft. They might get up soon.

She was tired. She hadn't slept.

She thought about praying. She didn't. She always felt like an idiot when she did. No one could hear her. At least, she was pretty sure no one could.

She replayed what had happened over and over. The club. The music. The smoke. Henry. Why did she come here with him?

_He was good to me. He watched out for me_.

Why did she think he was any different?

_I had to. I needed him to redeem humanity for me_.

Why did she let him take her there?

_He said it would be fun. He said our new life was fun, easy. It's just like that in New York, he said._

Why didn't she scream when he touched her? Just her leg. Just high enough. He was just drunk enough.

_Who would hear over the music?_

She stared out the window. What now? Where was she going today? She assumed they bring her to some shelter. Joanne seemed pretty keen on that idea. Mark and Roger seemed indifferent to her, but Mimi acted as if she actually wanted to help.

She could help but smile, remembering last night. As terrified as she was, she had fun. The sleepover never did happen. Joanne had a thing in the morning, she had told them.

She pulled the thin blanket up to her chin and waited for the sun to rise. She almost didn't want it to. It meant that tonight was over. It meant that she'd have to figure things out. She still had a little time. A few more minutes…

* * *

Roger was up first, around 10 o'clock. Abeth had fallen asleep, so he tried to be quiet. She woke up anyways.

"Good morning," he said, rummaging through the fridge.

"Morning," she mumbled, sitting up.

"Sleep good?"

"Yeah."

"Lair."

"You caught me."

"Want cereal?"

"Sure." She tossed her blanket aside and stood up. She was in some of Mimi's pajamas, seeing as the skirt she wore last night wasn't all that comfortable to begin with, much less sleep in. She tried in vain to smooth some of her auburn waves, but decided against it. It was no use. Besides, Roger looked just as bad. She joined himin the kitchen. "What kind?"

"Um….Capt'n Crunch."

"Sounds good."

Mark woke up and stumbled into the loft rubbing his eye and putting on his glasses. It took him a second to remember who Abeth was.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Shitty."

He laughed. "Well, you're honest."

"You have me to thank for that."

Mark ignored Roger. "Gimmie some cereal." He smiled at her, a cute, quirky smile. His hair was ruffled and she tee-shirt was wrinkled. He looked completely different from last night, in his red sweater, scarf wrapped around his neck. She liked sleepy-Mark.

Abeth and the two friends sat for a while, eating, not talking much. They didn't seem like they expected her to go anywhere.

"What you wanna do today?" Roger finally asked between mouthfuls.

"Uh, I…"

"Tour?" suggested Mark, more to Roger then her.

Abeth shook her head. "Actually, I was wondering if you guys knew how I could find a job."

Mark raised an eyebrow. "So, you're planning on staying in the city?"

"Yeah. Not here, though," she said quickly, "you guys don't have to, you know, baby-sit me, or whatever. I can find somewhere else. I'll just need some money so I can, you know…find somewhere real, like this."

Roger snorted. "Real," he repeated, almost darkly.

Shit. She offended him. "Oh, no, I mean…'

Mark stood up and poured himself what was left of the milk. "You can stay here as long as you need, I guess."

"Yeah," Roger mumbled into his bowl, "we aren't gunna kick you out."

Abeth was silent. Could these people really be this nice? To just let her... live here? She shook her head slightly. She'd figure them out later. "Okay…but I still need a job, to, you know, help with the rent and stuff."

Mark slapped Roger on the back as he came to sit back down. "Hear that? She's new and already she's talking about helping with the rent."

Roger looked at her and sighed, putting his spoon down. "There's just one thing you need to know about us. We're not gunna pay."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Abeth wants a job. Mark and Roger aren't planning to kick Abeth out. Abeth likes sleepy-Mark.


	6. Filming

It was a few days later and Mark tucked his camera under his arm as they walked. It was cold, but the nice kind of cold, the kind that made you happy you had a scarf. Abeth walked silently beside him. He'd taken her along to show her around the city (or, at least Alphabet City), but he had another reason as well, one he decided not to mention. 

He had nothing.

He hadn't filmed anything important, hadn't had an idea or felt inspired in months. He knew that Channel 3 Studios was looking for stories and that the rent wasn't going to pay itself... but he never did work well with a deadline hanging over his head.

So, he figured, what was the harm in bringing someone knew along? Roger never wanted to come with him, Mimi had worked late last night and was sleeping. Besides, who knew, maybe she'd do something that sparked his imagination.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

It seemed unlikely. She wasn't doing much of anything now.

"So..." he said conversationally, "what do you think so far?"

"Well," she said slowly, considering her answer. "I've seen three rats, a homeless guy and a guy pooping in a box. I'm not really sure what I think."

Mark smiled. "That really was a highlight, wasn't it?"

"You're a freak."

"You're Canadian."

"Touché."

They turned into a wide alleyway and walked a few paces.

"Stop," he said suddenly, a new look in his eyes. "Stand against that wall."

"Huh? This one?" She turned to face him, taking a few steps back towards the old building that loomed to her right.

Mark pulled out his camera. "Yeah. Don't move, ok?"

"Uh, okay."

He looked at her through his lens, making her far away; unreal. It made everything like that.

She was in some old black pants Joanne was going to throw out and a black coat he'd never seen before. He hair was loose around her shoulders and her hands were shoved in her pockets. Behind her was a brick, spay painted wall. The cold sucked almost all of the colour out of the frame, making everything pale and washed out, except her black clothes and the bit of red that stood out in her hair.

He liked it.

"Don't look at the camera."

"Where should I look?"

"Left. No. Too much."

"Better?"

"Yes. _Perfect_."

Abeth smiled , shook her head light and looked down, shifting a little from side to side. Mark wasn't sure if the cold was getting to her or she was blushing. She looked back up and shivered, burrowing her hands deeps in the coat.

"Cold?"

"Freezing."

He unwrapped his scarf and lobbed it at her. "Put that on. Just gimmie a sec, okay?" He hoped it would make her stay at least a little while longer.

"Sure," she said, picking the scarf up off the ground. "You might want to work on your aim, though."

"Don't look at the camera!" he scolded, laughingly. "And you don't need coordination to play chess," he added.

"You play chess?"

"Well... checkers."

Abeth twisted the scarf around her neck. "Ah, the art of checkers. What do you want me to do?" She pulled the scarf closer. It really was warm. She could see why he always brought it with him. Letting on her hands venture out of the coat, she twirled the end of it between her finger and thumb, absently.

"I don't know."

"Then how am _I_ supposed to know?"

He shrugged. "I don't have anything planned. I just like the way you look right now." He shook his head, realizing that might not have come out right. "You know, the black against the wall. I like it."

"Oh."

Mark spun the crank on the side of the camera. "Any ideas for where I could use this?"

"My wedding?" she shrugged. "My funeral?"

"A bit dark...

Again, she shrugged. "Got anything better?"

"Not yet..." he murmured quietly, almost to himself. He put the camera down. "But I will soon. Come on, let's go back. It's cold."

Abeth walked back to him. "So, am I going to be a movie star or what?"

"Wow, way to sell out to earn a buck," Mark laughed.

"Hey! I deserve it for standing out here in the freezing cold."

"For all of thirty seconds..."

"Don't worry," she smiled, pushing him with her shoulder, hands tucked safely away again, "I won't forget you when I'm rich and famous."

"Abeth?"

"Yes...?"

"I want my scarf back."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Abeth and Mark went out filming. Abeth got to wear Mark's scarf.


	7. Opening Up

Mimi was washing dishes. She didn't usually wash dishes, but lately they had been staking up and it was getting to her. They may have been poor, but it didn't mean they had to be slobs. Standing there, elbow deep in dirty water, she sighed. Roger was practicing with his new band. They had a gig on Saturday night, but she had to work late. She hated Saturdays at the Cat Scratch Club; they were always busy, they were always noisey and she was _always_ on stage. 

She shook her head. She remembered why she hated doing dishes. It gave her too much time to think. She picked up at bowl with pasta sauce dried on it. _When was the last time we had pasta_?

It was quiet. Really quiet. No cat howled, no siren wailed, no one shouted. Quiet. It pressed down on her, smuthered her. She hummed to herself, and it lifted a little. A Christmas carol. She smiled to herself. It was almost Christmas.

It was weird being alone. Weird, and lately, rare. There was always somewhere to be, or someone to talk to.

She had always hated being alone... Shaking her head, the tried to push thoughts of Benny and another time out of her mind. She knitted her brow, thinking. It wasn't like that anymore. Roger wouldn't leave her alone.

Just then, Abeth walked into the loft, tossing her coat carelessly onto the table and kicking off her shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a long braid, loose that hung down herback.

Mimi was glad someone was home. She must have still looked worried. "You okay?" Abeth asked, concerned. She picked up a rag and starting to dry the dishes that had been cleaned.

"Yeah," she answered, absently. "just...washing."

Again, the silence pressed down on her. But now she could do something about it.

"What's new?"

"Nothing. Just drying plates. You?"

"Washing."

Abeth nodded, thoughfully, picking up a purple, plastic cup. "Such interesting lives we lead."

Mimi laughed a little, handing her a plate. "I just hope this doesn't end up in the tabloids."

"I dunno," she said slowly, "I mean, we're already done three plates and a cup. This is big stuff."

Looking over at the girl, Mimi reazlied that she still had no idea how Abeth had ended up with them, what she was even doing in New York._ I may as well ask_, she thought, _not like there's anyone's to over hear anything_. She searched for a way to bring it up.

"How was job-hunting?"

"Sucky," Abeth said, simply.

"Sucks that you even have to get one."

Abeth's brow furrowed, a bit confused. "Yeah, well, I figured it was only right I help out."

"Oh, I know," replied Mimi, still cleaning. "But, I mean," she went on, "sucks to be so young and work and all."

"Sixteen isn't young," Abeth said defensively.

"I know. I was working at sixteen." Mimi thought for a second. This conversation wasn't exactly going as planned. Maybe it was just better to come right out and ask. _It's not like I'm to shy_, Mimi thought, with a sort of mental shrug. "So, how'd you end up here, anyways?"

Abeth sighed, exaspatedly. "I just _did_, okay?"

"Sorry... just thought I'd ask," she asnwered with an eyeroll. Who was Abeth to keep something as harmless as that to herself? _I am letting her_ live _her_, she thought, almost bitterly.

Mimi sneezed.

"Bless you," muttered Abeth, quietly.

"Shit."

Abeth turned to her, setting down a plate. "What?"

"_Shit_!"

Mimi's hands flew to her nose, and she turned away, almost doubled over.

The last ten seconds of tension completly left Abeth's mind. "Are you okay?" she asked, taking a step towards her.

"No. Fuck... just go."

"Mimi, I..."

Was she that upset?

Mimi rushed into the bathroom and stood over the sink. Abeth watched as she finally took her shaking hands away from her face. She had a nose bleed.

Abeth walked up and stood in the doorway. "Mimi, it okay... it's just a nose bleed. You'll survive."

"Can you just _go_, Abeth?" she spat. She looked up at herself in the mirror. Her still-trembling hands and thin face were covered with blood. "No," she said breathlessly. "Shit!"

"Mimi," Abeth said, as kindly as she could manage, "you need to just calm down. It's only a nose bleed." Walking into the bathroom, she handed her some balled-up toilet paper.

Tears streamed down Mimi's face. "Abeth, go!" she cried, snatching that toilet paper from her and pressing it to her nose.

Abeth was worried. Something wasn't right. She timidly placed her hand on Mimi's back and could feel her heart racing through the thin sweater she wore.

"Abeth, fuck! You don't... just listen to me!"

Mimi's voice was so cold, that Abeth's hand flew back to her side. "Mimi, I can help, if you-"

"_Abeth_, I have AIDS."

"What..."

"_AIDS_. As in, my _blood_ is _toxic_."

Abeth took a step back. "But..."

"Just go!"

Abeth turned on her heel and sped back intot he kitchen. Standing back beside the sink, she realized her heart was racing now, too. Back in the bathroom, she heard Mimi sob. Quickly, she glanced down at her hands. Nothing, no blood. She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally, she decided to finsih the dishes.

* * *

"...I'm sorry." 

"Don't be."

Mimi sat down beside Abeth, who was reading something on the sofa. "I should have said something, but... it's not just something that you just... bring up."

"Why not?"

Mimi sighed. "I'm guess I'm tired of being sick. I guess..." Her eyes glazed over and she looked away. She hadn't exactly wanted to delve this deep into her psyche today. "I guess I just wanted someone out there who didn't think of me as sick. Fargile."

"I don't think that," Abeth said, quietly.

"Mark says I keep getting nose bleeds because I don't have enough iron, or something..." she shook her head. "I'm sorry I yelled."

"No, I didn't listen to you. I should have just left you alone."

Mimi nodded, twisting a ring on her finger, waiting for the awkward moment to pass. She made a mental check list of everything she had cleaned up in the bathroom, made sure there was no possible way that anyone-

"I left because of my step-father." Abeth blurted out.

"Huh?" Mimi brought herself back out of her thoughts.

"My step-dad, Henry. He took me away, to live in New York," Abeth said, quickly, spitting it out as quickly as she could. "I used to live in a trailer park with my mother... and whoever she happened to have over that night. She was such a _whore_."

"You shouldn't talk like that about your mother." Mimi said, quietly.

"You're right. She wasn't smart enough to make them pay."

Abeth sighed and looked over at Mimi, still fiddeling with the ring.

"He took me to a club. He gave me a beer, but I wouldn't touch it. ...I saw how it made people back home. It didn't stop _him_ though." Abeth grabbed the back of her neck. It got warm when ever she was nervous. Right now it was on fire. "He had alway been touch-y, you know? It was always just an accident," she said, almost to herself, "but...He ran his hand up my leg. Too far. He said something, but I couldn't hear him. I... I pushed him away from me." She inhaled, shakily. Mimi nodded, listening intently. "He took hold of my shoulders and shook me. He was yelling... he put his hand back... that's when I left," she said finally.

Mimi sighed. "I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say.

"No, don't be. It was nothing. I just got scared."

"So..." Mimi said slowly, "now I guess we both know."

"Yeah."

Abeth sighed. She hadn't really wanted to relive that night, but Mimi seemed so upset about admitting she was sick, that Abeth felt she owed it to her,

"So... dishes done?" Mimi asked.

"Yeah."

"Good. Those photographers were getting a little wild."

Abeth smiled. "Anything to get a shot of stars like us."

* * *

**What I want you to take:** Mimi tells Abeth she has AIDS and Abeth tells Mimi how she ended up in New York.


	8. Christmas

"Merry Christmas, bitches!" 

Abeth looked up from her spot on the sofa to see Collins waltz into the loft. She been there for a few weeks now and was getting used to his grand entrances.

Roger and Mimi sat together on the chair with Mark's camera in their faces.

"Do you always start off the holidays by cussing?" asked Abeth, mockingly, raising an eyebrow. She walked out of the kitchen with a mug and sat down on the sofa.

Collins laughed. "Every year."

"He's not kidding," said Roger, flatly.

Mark turned his camera to Collins, who unloaded a brown paper bag. "At least I'm not a pumpkin head this time."

"_Albino_ pumpkin head," Collins corrected, pulling out a bottle of vodka.

Mimi jumped off of Roger's lap. "Yay! Christmas booze!"

Collins laughed again, hugging each of them. "Maureen and Joanne coming?"

Mark got some plastic cups from the kitchen. "I don't think so. I'm pretty sure they're spending Christmas with Joanne's parents."

"Lucky them," laughed Roger.

"Those two are such good friends!" Abeth laughed.

"I think we have some explaining to do..." said Mark.

Abeth shrugged. "You mean its not just a New York-thing to kiss your best friend?"

Roger laughed, loudly.

"Dude," she said, "I was totally kidding."

"_Dude_..." Roger said, mockingly.

"Making fun if me, eh?"

Collins smiled, humming O Canada.

Mimi passed out the cups. She offered one to Abeth. "I know you're underage and all, but, it's Christmas."

"You're one to talk," said Mark, flopping down beside Abeth. "We met her when she was 19, and she was already a lush."

"It's words like 'lush' that make it easy for me to believe you don't have a girlfriend," muttered Roger.

Mimi sat cross legged on the floor, leaning on the sofa. "What can I say? I'm old for my age."

Abeth laughed. "That's fine. I'll stick to coffee. Call me a square."

"Only behind your back," Mark said, sweetly.

Collins filled his plastic cup. "Now _that's_ friendship."

Mimi set her cup down. "Can we do presents now?"

Roger stood up. "Yup, where are they?"

"I still can't believe you don't have a tree. No wonder Santa didn't come..."

Mark patted Abeth's knee. "Remind me to have a chat with you after." He pulled his camera back out in time to see Mimi open her first gift.

"Earrings! I love earrings! And they're real plastic!" She stood up and hugged Roger's neck. "Thank you!"

* * *

After all the presents were given out, the five of them sat around, waiting for Roger to get drunk enough to play a few Christmas carols.

"When's you birthday?" Mark asked Abeth as he swung his legs over the arm of the chair, closing his yes.

Abeth, who by then had laid back down on the cot, yawned. Christmas always made her tired. "March. Why?"

Mark shrugged. "Wondering... just thinking about all the other presents I have to buy this year."

"You don't have to..." She thought about it. Would she really be here until March? Looking around her, she couldn't help but hope so. _I like it here, _she thought, sleepily.

"We _will_ and you'll _like_ it," Mimi said. "Jeez, it's about time you learned the rules around this place. We all get shitty gifts and we all pretend to like them."

Abeth pulled the blanket around her. "Okay, got it. I'll try not to step out of line again."

"Oh Christmas tree... Oh Christmas tree..." Roger sang quietly, plucking at his guitar.

"Sing it, Rog."

"...and little baby Jesus!"

* * *

**What I want you to take: **General happiness. Mimi has new earrings...


	9. Fair is Fair

Mark wasn't sure what he thought would happen with Abeth, but somewhere in the back of his mind he always knew it'd probably end up like this. It had been over a month and Abeth was still sleeping on the cot in the living room. 

At first, it had been weird having someone new around, but Abeth seemed to fit in pretty well.

She loved Mimi, but seemed almost intimidated by her. Mark could see why. Mimi was so sure of herself, so confident, even in the way she moved, despite everything. Mimi lived life, a concept that seemed totally new to Abeth.

She was completely taken with Roger. She's watch him write music, try to decipher what the notes meant and follow his fingers on the guitar. However, there was always some distance between the two, probably because Roger kept bringing up school.

"Let it be," Mimi would always say, "what's a few days of school? These are life lessons!"

Mark really didn't have an opinion on Abeth's schooling. It was just nice to have some company when he went out filming. He didn't always take her along, usually because it meant he didn't take his bike, but it was nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of every once in a while.

He's taped a lot of Abeth. It wasn't because she was pretty or anything. Roger thought she was, but they always did have different taste.

They got along well enough, he thought. She had been quiet the first few days, but that had changed. She always had something to say, at least to him. He half like it and was half annoyed by it. He just didn't know which half came when.

She was just... interesting. Something new. He considered documenting her life. Something new for Buzzline. A teenage runaway probably had a million stories. Then he remembered she never told him any of them. A month and he still had no idea why she'd been sitting on that curb.

Mark flicked his camera on. Then off. Then on again. He couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to film anything.

Roger was out with Collins, and Mimi was sleeping. She'd worked late last night.

Just then. Abeth walked through the door.

"Guess what."

"What?" Mark said, sitting up. He had been stretched out on the sofa.

"Got a job," she smiled.

"Really, where?"

"The Food Emporium. Cashier." She sat down in the chair.

"That's great."

"I start Monday. Orientation Thursday."

"First job?"

"First one I get paid for," she said, excitedly. She flung her hair over her shoulder and smiled brightly.

Mark smiled, too. "That's great!"

"And hey..." she said, her smile fading slightly, "I'll... totally pay for all the stuff..."

"Forget it," he interrupted.

"No, seriously."

Mark laid back down. "You hardly cost a thing."

"No... look," she said. She got up and kneeled down near the sofa at his head. He looked at her through the corner of his eyes, still facing up. "Once I save up enough, I'm outta here. I swear."

"You don't need to go anywhere," he sighed, already bored with the predictable back and forth. People thought too much about money. Why couldn't she just accept the help? Lord knows he would.

"I just... I feel really bad."

The harsh, white light from the early January sun poured in through the window and washed out the colour in the room. He closed his eyes. "Don't."

"Mark," she said, shaking his shoulder, "hear me out."

She sounded so sincere that he he opened his eyes and faced her. "I'm listening." he said, looking at her as she kneeled beside him.

"I'm going to pay you back. I just need some time," she said quickly, "it's a crappy job, but at least its something. Anyways, I'll figure out..."

He cut her off again. "Abeth, don't worry about it."

She looked down, leaning back on her heals. Long lashes cast black shadows on her cheeks.

He saw an opportunity and curiosity got the best of him. "Look, we can trade," he said, propping himself up. "We let you say here, and... you tell me what happened to you."

"It's nothing."

"You're choice. But good luck finding a place. Or roommates as good looking as us."

Abeth smiled, sadly. "Really... it isn't anything. I was just... it was _almost_ something. I think." To be honest, she really didn't want to go through the story again. It wasn't even much of a story, and she felt as if she were making something out of nothing when she told it.

Mark looked back at her, listening. He was surprised she was talking.

He looked to eager and ready to listen, that Abeth couldn't help but tell him. She sighed. "I used to live in a trailer park," she began, "with my mother. It was..." she shook her head. "That's another story all together. There a lot of kids there... a lot of kids with shitty parents. I just had to..." she shrugged, helplessly. "It was the worst when they started calling me 'mom', you know?"

He was almost tempted to pull out his camera, but decided it might ruin the... whatever this was. The story. The moment.

She inhaled, shakily. "Anyways, my step-father... he hadn't lived with us for a while, but he was still married to my mom... he told me he'd take me to New York." She smiled, fondly. "I've always wanted to come to New York. But here I thought it was all Broadway shows and Statue of Liberties..." She shrugged. "Naive, I guess."

Mark nodded, not wanting to interput.

"But..." she looked down at the floor again. "He - Henery - he just..." She looked back up at him, pain flickering behind her brown eyes. "He was always so nice to me. But then he took me to this club and..." She shook her head, avoiding his eyes for the first time.

Mark nodded. "That's when we found you, wasn't it?"

A hot, angry tear rolled down her cheek. "It wasn't supposed to be like that! He was the _nice_ one, he was going to take..." her sentence drifted off and she shook her head, wiping her eye, embarrassed. She didn't want to relive that night, not again. "I just thought he'd take care of me."

Mark sat up, took off his glasses and ran his hand over his eyes. "And this guy, Henry, he's... looking for you? That's why you don't want police, right?"

Abeth shrugged. "I have no idea what he's doing, or even if he's still here."

"Why don't you go back to your mother?" he asked softly.

"She wasn't a mother. I'm better off homeless."

Mark patted the spot beside him and she sat down. "Well, you're not homeless. Fair is fair, you stay."

She smiled shyly up at him. "I didn't really tell you much."

"Don't worry. I think I figured it out."

She nodded, absently, her thoughts somewhere else. "Mimi knows. I guess you can tell everyone."

"I don't have to."

"I know. But fair is fair."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Abeth found a job and told Mark what happened to her.


	10. A Year In The Life

Roger and Abeth met each other on the stairs one day, as they were both coming home. "Hey," Abeth smiled, opening the door for the both of them. 

"Hey. Perfecting timing."

Abeth threw her stuff down. Roger walked over to his room. "Forgot my guitar," he muttered, disappearing inside.

"You went to practice _without_ it?" Abeth couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah. Well," he said, coming back out of the room, Fender in hand, "this is kinda impromptu. I was at Life Support when on of the guys beeped me."

Abeth nodded. "Oh, I gottcha." Life Support was still somewhat of a mystery to her. Mark always brought his camera when he went. She glanced over at the pile of tapes stacked up beside the table. _It'd probably answer a lot_... she thought.

"So, you're done work?"

"Yeah. It's Tuesday, so I got off at three."

"You should crack open a book or something," he said, bending over to tune his guitar, avoiding her eyes.

Abeth's brow furrowed. "What?"

"You know," he shrugged. "Study."

"What would I study?"

"School stuff. You've been out of school way to long."

Abeth rolled her eyes. "Can we not have this conversation again? I get it. Go back to high school. I've heard it a thousand times."

"And yet, here you are."

She huffed. "Have a good practice, Roger."

"I'm just saying..."

"I know, I _know_. I'm ruining my life, I have no future, yatah yatah."

"Come on, Abby," he said, sympathetically, "it's not exactly 'yatah yatah' stuff, here."

"Right now," she said, sternly, "I'm focusing on surviving. What did we have for dinner last night?"

"Uh..."

"Exactly. I'll go back to school, when..." She shook her head. "Whenever."

"Just something to think about."

"Can I even _go_ to school in the States?"

Roger shrugged, moving towards the door. "Ask Collins. He should know. Bye Abeth."

Abeth flopped down on her cot. "See yah, Rog."

* * *

Abeth sat there for a long time after Roger left, thinking. She'd completely pushed school out of her mind, instead she was mulling over whether or not to watch Mark's tapes. She'd eyed them for weeks, knowing that somehow they would be able to describe him better. Explain him.

It was easier with the others. Roger had his music, and Collins has his laugh, which was just as much music as anything she'd ever heard on the radio. Maureen had her shows to tell people exactly what she thought, and whatever was on Joanne's mind was clearly written on her face. Mimi was so confident and sure that she never hid was she was feeling. But Mark was another story entirely.

_Mark is the locked diary to my Nancy Drew_, she thought to herself.

She tip-toed over to them, feeling she still needed to be quiet, even though the loft was empty. It took her a while to figure out how to hook everything up, but soon the small screen blinked to life.

She put in the first tape. It was a newer one. Roger sitting up on the table, playing his guitar. Joanne laughing at something. Collins and Roger at the subway station, each with a cigarette. Her and Mimi at Christmas. Her against the brick wall.

She smiled, faintly and unconsciously.

Mark asleep on the sofa. Maureen bowing, standing on top of a chair.

The movie ended. Giving a satisfied little sigh, she popped in another one.

Mimi sat in Roger's lap; she kissed him; she laughed. Mark stood on a table at a restaurant, people all around him. Maureen on stage. Someone she didn't recognize sitting and laughing with Roger and Collins. Maureen laughing. A very serious-looking bald man.

She watched it intently, unblinking, memorizing every moment. For some reason, it all fascinated her. She could guess at who these people were. The one spinning around the loft must have been Angel. She paused, remembering how Mimi had described her.

The kindest person he'd known, happiness personified. Strong and beautiful.

She thought about Collins, how in love they seemed in the film, and her heart broke. No one deserved to loose someone they loved, but knowing that it must have hit Collins the hardest was difficult for her to think about.

_Without him_, she thought, _I'd probably still be sitting on that curb._

Abeth was so engrossed in the movie that she didn't hear the door open, or the footsteps that softly crept up behind her.

The seriously-looking man appeared again. She thought about who he was, how he connected with these people. Was this Benny? The one that used to sleep on the cot? The scene changed. Maureen in a leather cat suit, blowing the camera a kiss.

"Looked hot didn't I?"

Abeth heart skipped an entire beat, her mind went blank and her hands few up.

Maureen laughed.

"Holy shit! You scared the crap outta me!"

"I know," she said, still laughing, "and it was priceless!"

Composing herself, Abeth turned back to the little screen. "When was this?"

"Almost two years ago now," Maureen said, sitting down next to her on the floor.

The movie came to an end, Angel slowly turned to face the camera, her finger nails bright blue.

"That's Angel," Maureen said softly.

"Yeah, I figured that was who that was." Abeth swallowed, hard. Maureen was never at a lose for words, but now she just stared blankly at the empty screen.

"She was nice," she finally said, her mind clearly somewhere else. "You would have liked her." She inhaled, slowly. "Anyways," she said, trying to shake herself out of the mood she had fallen into, "I forgot my bag her a while ago." She stood up. "Have you seen it?"

"Yeah, it's in the kitchen." Abeth began to place the tapes back, carefully. "So, are you gunna tell Mark I was looking at his stuff?"

"Nawh," Maureen said, coming back with a bag over her shoulder, "he'd have shown you if you asked."

Abeth shrugged. "I guess so. Hey, who was that other guy? Was it Benny?"

Maureen sat down on the chair, brushing back some of her hair and crossing her long legs. "Yeah," she said, fiddling with one of the buttons on her orange shirt. "You know about him, right?"

"Well... I know _of_ him."

Maureen leaned forward. "Then sit back, my friend! Do I have gossip for you!"

Abeth smiled. "Okay, shoot. What's this guy's story?"

"He and Mimi used to see each other."

"Oh, really?"

"After he moved out of here. _And_ after he was married."

"Yeah?"

"_And_ after Mimi and Roger started dating."

"_Seriously_?"

Maureen laughed. "What's with all the questions?"

Ignoring her, Abeth thought for a second. "Mimi cheated on Roger?"

"Oh yeah. But that's ancient history now. Roger had baggage, Mimi had baggage, too."

Abeth nodded.

"Mark and I used to date, too, you know."

"Wow," she laughed, though she had always supposed there had been something between them, "It's a regular soap opera! Wait..." she paused for a second. "Mark? But I thought you were..."

Maureen shrugged. "Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me. Boys, girls... I can't help it!" She stood up. "Anyways, I have to go. Joanne mad at me," she pouted.

"Why?"

"Oh, something about not having enough time to be my performance manager. She's just complaining. I mean, I'm the one doing all the work, right?"

Abeth couldn't help but be mystified by Maureen's almost skewed sense of reality. "Wait, you didn't tell me who broke up with who."

"Oh," Maureen said, "Mimi left Benny."

"No, I mean with you and Mark."

Maureen smiled, suddenly. "He dumped me. I know, _I_ still can't believe it. He found out I was cheating, I guess."

Abeth's heart sank. "You were cheating on Mark?"

"Um... yeah."

"But he's so..." she searched for a way to put this. "He's like a little puppy-dog with glasses!"

Maureen laughed. "You haven't met Jill, have you?"

Abeth looked confused.

"Jill? The model with the short black hair? The Calvin Klein model?"

"Nope."

"I rest my case."

As Maureen turned to leave, Abeth still couldn't help but feel for Mark, even though this must have happened ages ago. She still saw the way he looked at Maureen, the way he couldn't help but let his eyes follow her around the room.

"Wait, Mo?"

"Yup?"

"Do you think I should go back to school?"

Maureen thought for a moment, standing in the doorway. "You should, but don't beat yourself up over. I ain't never studied," she smiled, "and I turned out just fine." With that, Maureen disappeared out the door and left Abeth alone again.

Abeth thought about what Maureen said long after she left. How could anyone who could hurt someone like Mark and not seem upset about it? Was that really 'turning out just fine'?

Suddenly, she blushed. She was growing far to fond of Mark.

* * *

**What I want you to take:** Roger wants Abeth to go back to school, but Abeth won't hear it. Abeth watched some of Mark's movies and found out a bit about their past. She is almost upset with Maureen for having cheated on Mark, who, she realizes, she likes too much.


	11. Empty Stage

Maureen stood up on the empty stage, a dozen blank TV screens behind her.

"Joanne, what if I... Joanne?"

Joanne stood with her back to the stage, a large cell phone pressed against her ear. "Yes, Dad, I spoke with him earlier."

"Joanne, _hello_?" Maureen folded her arms across her chest and waited.

"Hold on a sec," Joanne said into the phone. "What is it?"

Maureen threw her arms up and jutted out her hip, and pasted on a brilliant smile. "What if I start like this?"

Joanne rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dad, it's Maureen."

Maureen brought her arms back down with a huff. "Joanne, you're _supposed_ to be helping me."

Joanne ignored her and furrowed her brow. "Oh, you want me to call him right now?" She dug in her pocket, pulled out a quarter and walked over to a near by pay phone. She held the two phones to her ears.

Exasperated, Maureen sat down, her legs swung over the side of the stage.

"Steve? Joanne. Just wondering how the Heredia case went. A win!" she laughed, "Good work."

"Joanne..."

"Yes, Dad, they won the case. I know, I didn't even..."

"_Joanne_," Maureen said again, impatient.

"Hold on," Joanne said into both phones, putting them down. "What?"

"Jo! You're not even helping me, here." She motioned around her. "Do I look like I'm ready to go on in a _week_?"

"Maureen, I know this may come as a shock to you..." Joanne began.

"Here we go," muttered Maureen.

"...but there are other things going on in my life besides this performance."

"Obviously!" Maureen cried, pointing to the phones still hanging in her hands.

"You can't take up all my time," she said, rationally.

"This isn't all your time! It's right now!" Maureen stood up and placed her hands dramatically on her hips.

Joanne lifted both phones back to her ears. "I'll call you back." With that, she hung up on them both. "Happy? I'm ready now."

"Oh _please_, Joanne."

"What, isn't this what you wanted?"

"Why can't you even _pretend_ to care about things that are important to me?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Maureen rolled her eyes. "There's a difference between being _present_ and really _being_ somewhere."

"I don't always have time to..."

"..._help me_?" Maureen cried.

Joanne clenched her jaw. "That's not what I said!"

"Whatever," said Maureen, shaking her head.

"How can you be so ungrateful?"

"Ungrateful?" she spat. "You know what," she began, brown eyes on fire, "if you don't have time for this, the _fine_. I'll find someone new."

"Who? _Mark_?" Joanne said, coldly.

"Anyone. Just not you!"

"Fine!" cried Joanne. "Good luck on such short notice."

"Better luck then I _ever_ _had_ with _you_!"

"That's it, I'm leaving. I'm gone!"

With that, she turned on her heal and left, leaving Maureen alone, stewing on the empty stage.

* * *

**What I want you to take:** Maureen and Joanne fought. Joanne quit being her performance manager.


	12. Checkers

Abeth laid on the cot, a blanket tucked under her chin. She'd started a fever in the night and was still a little achey. 

A little table had been pulled up beside her, where Mark had been playing checkers with her earlier. Right now he was in the kitchen making lunch for them and Maureen, who was sitting, making phone calls.

Mark brought out three bowls of soup.

"Thanks," Abeth said, groggily, sitting up and taking it from him. Maureen, still on the phone, flashed him a bright smile.

"No problem," he said, sitting on the floor near the cot. "Not like I had anything better to do."

Abeth smiled. "Always the charmer."

"I try."

"Hello?" said Maureen from across the loft, ""Toby? Hey, it's Maureen." She laughed. "I know, I know, I remember. Look, I have a favour to ask you... remember," she giggled, "you owe me."

Mark rolled his eyes.

"So.." Abeth said slowly, not sure of whether or not to bring up the subject on her mind. Curiousity go the best of her. "I heard you two used to date."

"But I am over her," he said.

She nodded, and pointed back to the phone. "Who's that?" she asked.

"No idea. She's looking for a new stage manager."

Abeth raised her eyebrows. "What happened to Joanne?"

Mark shrugged. "They had a fight, about a week ago, I think." He ate a spoonful of soup. "But what else is new?"

Abeth couldn't help but sigh, sadly. "Too bad." She hated when Maureen and Joanne fought. They seemed to happy when they were getting along.

"Don't worry. They always work it out."

Suddenly, Maureen laughed, loudly, twisting a strand of curly hair around her finger.

"What is she doing?" Abeth whispered, a smile pulling at her lips.

"Finding a new stage manager... the only way she knows how."

Abeth stiffled a laugh, watching Maureen giggle and flirt, though they were the only other people in the room. "Wow...here I would have just looked in the yellow pages."

"Yeah, right," smiled Mark.

Abeth nodded, setting her food down. "You're right. I would have just asked you."

Mark pressed his cool hand to her forehead. Abeth closed her eyes, memorizing the moment.

"You're fever's breaking."

She smiled at him. "Well, you took good care of me."

Mark sighed and looked down at the checker board. "Wanna play another game?"

Abeth raised an eyebrow. "Only if you're ready to have your ass kicked. _Again_."

"Oh _please_," he said, trying, and failing, to seem angry. "I _let_ you win."

Mark laughed. "This time, you're on."

* * *

**What I want you to take:** Mark and Abeth are getting along and Maureen is "phone-flirting" with a man named Toby.


	13. The Phone Call

Joanne worried about the girl staying at Mark and Roger's loft, but it really wasn't her problem. Besides, she been there for months and things seemed to be going fine. 

She pushed open the glass doors of the firm and ran to make the elevator. She was late. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she reached her floor, got off, and hurried past the secretary, Lorie.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, unwrapping her scarf.

"Everything all right?" asked Lorie. "You looked frazzled."

Joanne though about explaining the fight she'd had with Maureen; the nearly-smashed lamp, the screaming, the slamming doors, but, eyeing the cross around Lorie's neck, she decided against it.

She shrugged. "Traffic."

Lorie smiled. "I hear you."

Joanne started for her office.

"Oh, Miss Jefferson?"

_Miss_. She'd explain what a 'life partner' meant later.

"Yes?"

"Your father left you some messages... some cases he wants you to take?"

"Thank you," Joanne sighed.

Leave it to Daddy to heap on more work. Didn't she realize she was a big girl now? She could tie her shoes and find cases all on her own now.

Flustered, she slumped down into her swivel chair behind the desk. She glanced at the clock. 8:12. Perfect. The day hadn't even started.

She picked up the phone, wedged it between her ear and her shoulder, and shifted through some papers on her desk.

The intercom buzzed. "Miss Jefferson?"

She pressed the little button. "Yes, Lorie?"

"There's a Mr. Wells on the line. Says he needs a lawyer."

"He called the right place."

"He sounds... drunk... or angry, or something. Want me to put him through?"

Joanne set a paper aside with her freehand. "Um, sure, yeah. Put him through. Hey, Lorie, did you get that fax that-"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Okay, good. Put him through."

Joanne heard the click. "Hello, Mr. Wells?"

"I need to speak to a lawyer," the voice said simply.

"I am a lawyer, sir. What can I help you with today?"

"Well, that's a long question... no, I mean'nswer. That's a long'nswer." His words slipped into each other and Joanne had to focus to make out what he was saying. "Second-i-ly, my daughter is missin' and the police aren't can't do a damn thing!"

"Aren't can't?" she repeated.

"You know what I mean! Put a man on the phone."

"Sorry, sir, but I'm the only one in right now."

"Fine. Just lsiten t'me, not... your period."

"All right, Mr. Wells, I'll tune my period right out."

* * *

The conversation went on for another twenty minutes. Mr. Wells had taken his daughter on vacation to New York and she had been kidnapped.

"Her name?"

"Abby."

"And her last name?"

"Messer."

Joanne's heart stopped. Abby Messer? Wasn't Messer the girl's name? It was a mistake. Abby must be short for Abigail... No way it was the same girl.

She inhaled deeply, calming down. "And your wife's name?"

"Ex-wife," he said coldly.

"And you aren't the girl's father, that's correct?"

"I raised 'er since she was ten! Only father she knows, and I got my rights!"

"Please don't yell, sir. How old is Abby?"

"Abeth," said Mr. Wells. "That's her, y'know, proper name."

Fuck.

She steadied herself.

"How old is she?" She was asking now just to make sure it really was the same Abeth Messer.

There was a pause on the other end the phone. "16 or 17."

Joanne closed her eyes, jotting down the age. It was her. It had to be the same girl.

"And don't tell 'er mum I got 'er here. Lawyer-patient confidentness."

"Why?" Joanne's tone turned almost threatening. "Mr. Wells, does Abeth's mother know where she is?"

"No one know where she is, _she's taken_!"

"Don't yell. Does Abeth's mother _know_ you took her to New York?"

"Don't matter."

"What is the mother's name?"

"Listen, lady, Imma get a real lawyer an-"

"What?" she interrupted harshly, "_sue me_?"

There was a noise coming from the other end, as if the man had dropped the phone. "Find my kid!" he shouted finally.

She sighed, a plan already forming in her mind. She'd say he was too drunk and she couldn't make out a word he was saying.

Who would they believe?

"You've notified the police?"

"Told I did, didn't I?"

"And why exactly do you need legal consultation, Mr. Wells?"

"To make 'em to something!"

"You haven't adopted Abeth?"

"No. Don't need to."

"You have no parental rights?"

"I have rights!"

"Good bye, Mr. Wells."

"_Don't you_-"

She hung up. Swivelling in her chair a bit, she did a back ground check on Ken Wells, the name he had given her.

Nothing.

"Figures," she muttered, standing up.

She walked out into the lobby. "Lorie, I'm taking an early lunch. Jack will be here in half an hour," she said, pulling on her coat.

"But it's only just 8:30..."

"...I'm hungry," she said, only just remembering not to slam the door.

Quickly, Joanne hailed a taxi and drove to the loft, hoping someone was there. She would have called, but she was pretty sure they hadn't paid their phone bill in a while. Starting to sweat, nervously, she drummed her fingers in the window. What was she doing? What if she lost her job over this...

She tried to relax as the taxi parked on the side of the road. Flinging a bill at him, she went into the building, rushed up the stairs and knocked.

Roger answered. "What'd you forget?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, sorry," he smiled, letting her in, "I thought you were Mimi. She just left."

"Is Abeth here?"

He noticed the tone of her voice. It wasn't panic, it was... worry? This upset Roger. Joanne never worried, Joanne was the only one who had things figured out.

"What's wrong?" he asked, placing a hand on her shoulder. He seemed so genuinely concerned that she told him about the phone call. Just another rule she decided to break today. But this was different. This was one of her friends.

"It was Henry..." Roger muttered. He had heard all about him by then.

"It had to be. He gave me a fake name, but... who else?"

Abeth stepped out of the bathroom, in pyjamas, running her hands through her wet hair. "Oh, Jo, hey. What are you doing here?"

Roger sighed, ready to hear the whole story again. "Sit down."

Abeth looked panicked. She sat next to Roger on the sofa. "What? Did someone die?" She glanced at them nervously, wringing her hands. "Sorry, it's just, last time someone sat me down like this, Uncle Vinny died."

It was best to get straight to the point. "Henry called," Joanne said plainly.

Abeth's eyes grew bigger, she sat up straighter. "What? Where?"

"My office."

She put her head in her hands. "No, no, no, no, no..."

Roger looked at Joanne for help, but she just shrugged. He hesitantly put his hand on Abeth's back. "There, there." He had never been that good with crying girls.

"He gave me a fake name," Joanne went on.

Abeth looked up. "Then how do you know it was him?"

"He asked for you. Abeth Messer."

"Oh shit..." she murmured, smothering her face back in her hands.

"Don't worry. He didn't know that I knew you. It was a coincidence. He doesn't know where you are. I hung up on him."

Roger smiled, still patting Abeth. "Really?"

"Hell yeah, I did."

Abeth looked up and rubbed her eyes, smiling a little. "What if he calls back?"

Joanne shrugged, leaning back in the chair where she sat. "I don't really care. And you're almost impossible to find. The Food Emporium doesn't even have your id."

Roger shook his head. "I still can't believe they bought the fire story... morons."

"He said his last name was Wells," Joanne went on.

Abeth nodded. "Yeah... he uses that name a lot," she sniffled.

The door opened and Mark walked in. "Joanne?"

"Hi, Mark."

"Abeth..." he looked at Roger, "is she crying? Abeth, are you crying?" He walked up to them. "What's wrong?"

Roger explained.

"So... what does this mean?"

"It means they're looking," muttered Abeth, darkly.

Mark sat down and hugged her shoulders. Roger, seeing Mark was far better for the job, left Abeth's side and made coffee. It was too early for all this drama.

"Look," said Joanne, "all he can really do is file a missing person's... I'm sure if the police..."

"No police," she whined, resting her head on Mark's shoulder. "They'll just send me back or put me in the system..." She gave a pitiful, half-hearted sob. "I don't want to be in the system..."

Mark rubbed her arm, ignoring her wet hair. He looked at Joanne and saw she looked just as helpless as he felt.

Joanne sighed heavily and crossed her legs. "I can tell him that if he refuses to give his real name..."

"And if he gives his real one?" Mark asked.

"Then... a missing person's report goes out. Then they look."

Abeth bit her lip, willing herself not to cry, but the thought of a future back in Chatham or in some foster home was too much. She doubled over, her head on Mark's chest, and covered her eyes, ashamed. She felt like a child.

"We can't do anything?" asked Roger from the kitchen.

"It's the police's problem, really. He said they weren't doing much. I can slow him down, though. Throw some paper work at him..."

"Do it," sobbed Abeth.

"I will." She glanced at her watch. "I've gotta go. I'll tell you if anything else happens. He might not even call back. And," she said softly, "there are a million people in New York, Abby..."

Abeth looked up, sitting up again, composing herself.

"This probably won't go anywhere." She turned for the door. "Just don't say a word about this. I was never even here."

Mark nodded.

From the kitchen, Roger raised a mug. "Coffee?" he called after her.

"No thanks," she said walking out the door, "I'll keep you posted."

Roger set a mug in front of Mark and a glass beside it.

"What's that?" asked Mark.

"Vodka. If anyone ever needed it..." He motioned to Abeth.

* * *

Later, Roger went out with Mimi and Abeth sat alone on the sofa, staring intently at the nothing in front of her.

Mark walked in from his bedroom. "Hey."

"Hey..."

He sat down on the edge of the cot. "Still upset?" He wished the words back. Stupid question.

"Yeah... it's just..." She looked up at him, her eyes duller then he remembered. "Why is he doing this? Why does he care?" Tears gathered in her eyes again and she turned away. "What does he want?"

Mark stood up, not sure of exactly what to do. Part of him told him to rush over and hug her. The other, much louder, part told him to make a run for it.

He felt himself get angry. This guy had no right to Abeth cry.

"Don't worry," he said quietly.

"I am."

He took a few steps toward her and she looked back up at him. "He won't find you. If he does..." he shrugged, "I'll kill him."

She smiled. "No you won't."

He laughed and sat down beside her, the now-half empty glass that was still on the table . "You're right. I wouldn't."

Abeth wiped her eyes.

Maybe he would.

* * *

**What I want you to take:** Henry, Abeth's step-father called Joanne's law firm to see if they could help him find Abeth. Joanne told Mark, Roger and Abeth what had happened. Abeth is very upset and Mark comforts her as best he can. Joanne and Maureen are fighting.

* * *

**AN: **I have no idea how the whole legal system works here, so I'm pretty much just bs-ing. Oh well, it's fiction. _Also _I do not think Mark is capable of murder. I just wanted to show he really hated Henry for making Abeth so upset and... I needed a way to end the chapter.


	14. A Night Out

"Abby, I'm just saying."

"I know, Roger, but you're _always_ 'just saying'."

"Come on, guys," Mark sighed, tired of the conversation. "Let's just get there."

Abeth nodded, wrapping her black coat tighter around her as the six friends walked down the street.

"It's important, though. School's important."

Mimi patted his shoulder. "She knows. Let's just go eat."

* * *

Mark pushed open the doors to the Life Café, letting everyone walk in. Mimi, Roger, Collins, Maureen and Abeth filed past him. He wasn't surprised that Joanne has decided not to come. She and Maureen hadn't spoken in a few days.

The nearest waiter groaned. "You guys?"

Mark smiled. "Yup, it's us."

"Did you miss us?" smiled Roger, lacing his fingers through Mimi's.

"I'm assuming you can pay _this_ time..." the man said pointedly.

"You know what they say about assuming," Maureen smiled, crossing her arms.

The waiter sighed, but, he turned around and left them alone.

Mimi and Roger went off to find a table, stopping to talk to a few people they recognized.

Maureen nudged Collins. "Look."

He looked over to where she was pointing, across the room. "Benny?" he asked. "What is he doing here?"

Abeth joined them. "That's Benny? The one sitting with the guy in the suit?"

Collins nodded "Yup, that's him all right. The one in black."

"Come on," Mark said, motioning to Mimi and Roger, "let's sit."

None of the tables were big enough to fit all six of them, so they pushed two together, despite the eye rolls and huffs the waiters gave them.

Abeth looked around for a menu. "How the hell are we supposed to know what to eat?" she asked, still searching.

Mimi laughed from across the table. "We forgot. You're new."

Abeth pushed her lips to one side, annoyed. "Not _that_ new."

Mark, who sat down beside her, pointed to a chalk board on the wall. "We usually just use that."

"It says 'Act Up' on it," Abeth said, wrinkling her nose. "Definatly don't want any of that."

"Like I said," said Mimi with a shrug, "new."

Maureen leaned over Mark. "Try the pasta."

Roger stuck out his tongue in disgust. "Just don't try the meatballs."

"Okay," she said, folding her arms on the table, "I trust you two." Abeth took a moment to take in her surroundings while the others talked. It was the furst time she had been to the Life Café, though she had heard them all talk about it.

Tattered, faded posters covered the walls, and a window at the end of the café let you glance out into the black, dirty street. The tables were old, too, and the one they sat at had one leg slightly shorter then all the rest. The chairs were uncomfortable, the lighting was terrible and it was crowded and smokey.

She loved it.

Just then, Benny walked up to them, adjusting his tie slightly as he stood in front of the tables.

Mark turned to Abeth and rolled her eyes, dramatically. She surpressed a giggle, smiling up at him.

"A performance I didn't know about?" Benny asked with a little smile.

"No," said Maureen. Leaning back in her seat, "but there is one I wasn't planning to tell you about in a few days."

"Well then," said Benny, looking at each of them and shifting somewhat uncomfortably, "what brings you here?"

Collins shrugged. "Should ask you the same thing."

"I'm in a meeting." He motioned behind him at the man in the gray suit sitting a few tables away.

Maureen motioned around the table. "So are we. You're interrupting."

Benny laughed, softly. "All right, I get it. I'm leaving." He looked over at Mimi. "You look good."

Mimi nodded, avoiding eye contact. "I feel good."

He nodded to himself. "Good, good. You too, Rog?"

"Peachy," he said with a smirk.

Benny nodded again, not sure of what to do.

"Don't worry about me," said Collins, as if he were trying to break the tension that had found time in the short exchange to build up. "I'm fine."

Benny smiled. "I'm glad."

He noticed Abeth and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," said Mark, "this is Abeth. Abby, this is Benjiman."

"Benny."

"Benny," Mark repeated for her.

"Nice to finally meet you," Abeth said, polietly. "I guess I kind of owe you."

"Oh really?" Benny said. "Why?"

"Without you, these guys probably wouldn't have a cot, so I wouldn't have a place to sleep."

Benny over looked at Mark. "She's staying with you?"

Mark nodded.

"You can ask her, you know," Collins put in, "she's right there."

Benny looked back to Abeth. "Sorry." He sighed. "All right, then," he said, taking a last look at them all. "I guess I'll see you all later."

"See yeah," Maureen said, unenthusasticly, as the rest of them mumbled their goodbyes.

"So..." Abeth said as he left, "that's Benny."

"Yup," Roger said, putting his arm around Mimi's shoulders, "that's Benny."

The conversation moved on, and the friends chatted away, but Abeth couldn't help but watch Benny out of the corner of her eye. It was weird seeing him. It was a glimpse into the past they had without her, the bonds and ties they'd formed before her. Weird, but in a way, kind of nice. Almost as if now, she were tied to them, too.

* * *

Abeth went to rest her foot against on one of the table legs, but found another already there. She looked over at Mark sitting beside her, talking to Collins. Realizing the foot could only belong to him, she weighed her options.

Without too much thought, she kicked his foot away and placed her own there.

Not turning away from his conversation, Mark pushed Abeth out of the way, replacing his foot.

Abeth, keeping herself as composed as she could, and taking a bite of pasta without meatless balls, gently pushed his foot to one side until it reached the edge of the table leg and fell off with a thud. She giggled when she realized how hard he was trying to keep a straight face.

All of the sudden, Mark pushed her foot as hard as he could.

She pushed back, until a fell on foot-war waged under the table.

"Ow!" cried Mimi from the other side of the table. "What the...?"

Instantly, both feet placed themselves neatly on the floor where they belonged.

"Sorry," said Abeth, as innocently as she could manage, "I was trying to put my foot up."

Mimi nodded understandingly and went back to listening to Maureen, her head resting on Roger's shoulder.

Abeth decided to stop playing around and try to listen to Maureen as well. She was explaining why she and Joanne were fighting.

"It really doesn't matter," Maureen said with a huff. "I got a new performance manager, anyways." A little smirk pulled at the corner of her lips and her eyes lit up playfully. "He's really cute, too. His name is Toby." Maureen turned to Abeth, "You should check him out! Oh wait..." she said, thinking for a minute, "He's twenty-five. Is that too old?"

Abeth felt a gentle nudge on the side of her foot. Instinctively, she pushed back.

"He doesn't sound right for me."

* * *

"Mimi! Mimi!" they all chanted, as she jumped up on her chair. She swung her hips dramatically from side to side.

"_Whoo_!" shouted Maureen, as Collins' laugh rang through the cafe. Mark ordered more beer for all of them, over the hoots and hollars that flooded their ears.

Mimi raised her arms up over her head, dancing.

Roger held up Mark's camera.

Abeth was amazed by all this, but didn't notice. She was engrossed in the moment. She was shouting. "Shake it, girl!"

* * *

"You want me to drink wine?" 

"Or beer," said Mimi.

Abeth laughed. "All right, gimmie."

"I sh'ever neen - wait," Mark giggled. "I mean, I never seen you drink."

"You're drunk," Collins said flatly.

"Yay!" Maureen cried, "Drunk Marky!"

"Don't call..." he hiccupped, "don't call me Marky."

Mimi slid a beer bottle across the table.

Abeth grabbed it and drank.

Roger called a waiter in leather hot pants over. "Wine and beer!" he demanded.

The waiter winked at Roger as he left, shooting his a bright smile.

"Roger, you have a _boyfriend_!" Maureen teased.

Mimi laughed loudly, suddenly, startling nearly everyone in the cafe. "Collins! _Collins_, your name!"

"What about it?"

"It's the same as a drink!"

Mark snorted. "It is!"

The waiter came back and passed out a few more drinks. "Hey," said Roger, pointing to Collins, "his name... it's a drink."

"How nice for him," mutter the waiter, noitcing Mimi's hand in his.

Abeth looked around. "Is it that funny?"

Mimi laughed again, pounding the table. Roger shook his head, giggling at her.

Maureen pushed the beer closer to Abeth. "Drink until it's funny," she intructed.

Abeth decided that, this time, it was best to do as she was told.

* * *

The waiter they had seen when they first walked in came up to them. "Are you nearly through here?"

Maureen wrinkled her nose. "Are we being kicked out?"

"No. But you're being very disruptive."

Collins stood up and swung his arm over the waiter's shoulders. "What's your name?"

"Doug," said the waiter, uncomfortably.

"Okay, Doug," said Collins. "_Relax_."

"Relax?" Doug said, sceptically, lifting Collins' arm off of him.

"Yeah," said Mimi, her head proped up on her hand. "Chill out, man." She looked back to where Benny had been sitting earlier that night. "Your important customer is gone."

The man shook his head. "That's not the point..."

Mark sat up straighter. "The point? There's a _point_?"

Collins slid back into his seat.

"Doug," continued Mark, "let me tell you about the point." He stood up, as soberly as he could manage. "I've looked and I've looked," he said, spreading his arms out, "for this _point_. But," he said slowly and a little over dramatically, "and there's on thing on which I must insist." He walked over to Doug and whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear him, "it doesn't exist."

Doug rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

All of the sudden, Abeth felt herself sucked into the words, a beat behind them that she could almost hear.

Maureen stood up from her seat, a sat down on the table. "What's the point of rehearsal when your point is universal, but no one _knows_ and no one _goes_ to see your _shows_?"

Abeth watched a spark light behind Mimi's eyes as she said, "and what's the point of working when everyone just sits lurking, gawking, stalking? All I need is money, but let me tell you honey," she said, leaning over the table and smiling playfully at Doug, "money doesn't matter when you're _dead_." Her morbid words were hidden behind the light in her eyes and happy little eighth notes that danced around them all, but the point rang out.

"And what's the point of a song when you keep getting it wrong?" Roger said, pretending to hold a guitar. "You start and it's smart, but you feel it fade from you and don't know what to do. So what's the point?"

Collins flicked his lighter. "Just a reason for another joint."

Mark jumped up on the table, much to Doug's dismay. "So, Dougy, what's the one thing we've learned from this lesson you've earned?"

"That'll need to clean the table?"

"Yes. But another message I think is clear. Look around you..." he said, almost somberly, "there's no point here."

Doug did look around him, surrounded by societies castaways and the people the rest of the world forgot about. "But..."

"Yes!" Maureen cried, excitedly, jumping up onto the table with Mark. "But!"

Abeth, still sitting, looked around, confused.

"But?" Doug repeated.

"Lemmie give it to you," said Collins, again putting his arm around the waiter. He didn't protest this time. "We've looked and we've looked and we haven't found the point they preach from a higher ground."

"But here we are," Mimi said, "still alive. And maybe the point isn't just to _survive_."

"It's to live!" cried Mark.

"It's to go!"

"It's love," sang Mimi, happily. She thought for a moment. "Or lack there of."

"It's to laugh!"

"It's to catch that note in the back of your throat."

Abeth sat, surrounded by organizned chaos, lost in it.

"It's to look," said Mark, "for the point, even if it's not there. And what you find, you share."

Roger raised his glass. "So here's to Mark, our resident phillosipher and poet!"

Mark bowed.

"I still don't get it..." Doug muttered. "So if you'll just get off the table..."

"I'm afraid we're still unable."

"Then just tell me what the point is, so we can all move on."

"It's music!"

"It's friends!"

"It's the spot light!" Maureen jumped off the table with a flourish.

"It's to comprehend!"

"It's moving!"

"It's danger!"

Mark looked down at Abeth, and held out his hand. Taken back, she looked at it for a moment. _Does he really want me to get up on the table?_ He smiled. She'd never seen him so happy, not like this. Swept up in the beat that pulsed through her, she grabbed his hand and stepped up in the table. She held out her beer bottle and placed a hand on her hip, swinging her hair back.

"It's shacking up with random strangers!"

All the reservations fled her mind as she moved.

"It's Angel!"

"It's learning!"

"It's loosing!"

"It's yearning!"

"So, to sum it all up?" Doug asked. He pretended to be impaitent, but each one of them could see how closely he watched them all spin around the table.

Suddenly, Mark lifted Abeth up in his arms. Her heart stopped. The beat stopped. Time stopped.

"It's us!" cried Mark, smiling down at his friend.

Collins jumped up on the table as Mark set Abby down. "We're the fucking point!"

Doug nodded. "Very good, then." He looked around. "The chances you'll be paying the bill?"

Collins pretended to mull the question over. "Nil."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Pretty much a _really_ sad re-write of LVB. Maureen has a new stage manager, Toby, and Mark and Abeth played footsie. Abeth go to dance on the tables and we saw Benny for the first time.

* * *

**AN: **Please don't make fun of my sad rhymes. I tried.


	15. Heading Home

Abeth linked arms with Collins and Maureen as they left the cafe, still giggling and dancing and headed out into the dark, slushy streets. 

As the group walked ahead, Mimi touched Mark's arm, and the two hung back.

"So," she said playfully, "you and Abeth are really getting along."

"Yeah," he shrugged. "She really fits in." He smiled, motioning ahead of them. Abeth and Roger pretended to be airplanes, arms spread out, circling around Collins. "She's _wasted_."

Mimi laughed, watching them, but turned back to Mark again. "You're pretty into her, eh?"

"Eh? You're starting to sound like Abeth."

"Don't aviod the question!" she said, smiling brightly, hanging onto his arm, a little skip in her step.

"No. Not like... _that_. She's a kid!"

"Not really. She's almost 17."

"Oh yeah..." he muttered, thoughtfully, "I gotta get her something... we all do," he added, quickly.

"Well," Mimi said matter-of-factly, "she's totally into you."

"_Into me_?" he repeated, with a snort. "Please."

"Trust me, Marky, I know."

"Don't call me Marky."

"Stop changing the subject."

Mark sighed, trying to keep his head clear. "Let's talk about this when we're sober."

"You seem sober."

"I don't think I am..."

Just then, Abeth came running up to them. She darted behind Mark and jumped on his back. "Onward, Jewish soilder!" she cried. She hugged her amrs around his neck. "I love you, Marky!"

"Oh man..." Mimi laughed. "What did I tell you?" Mark rolled his eyes and with a less then inconspicuious smile trotted forward.

"Don't call him Marky!" Mimi called after them.

"Stop! Stop!" Abeth cried suddenly, as they caught up with Maureen, Roger and Collins. "I get it!"

"Huh?"

"_Tom Collins_!"

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Mimi suspects Abeth has a crush on Mark. Mark denies it.


	16. The Fire

It was mid-March, but the cold in New York City still hadn't let up. Seeing as Mimi and Abeth were the only ones with any steady income, they hadn't had heat in a while. 

Roger lugged an old garbage can out of his room and began filling it with old newspapers.

"I was wondering why you were saving all those." Abeth said, sitting on the cot, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

Roger threw a match into the garbage can a birlliant light, slightly dulled by the hazy, black smoke, flickered on everything in the loft, almost fighting off the intense black the seeped inthrough the window.

"Not very warm," muttered Mark from the chair. He was flipping through what looked like a script and scribbling in it now and then. Abeth watched the light play off his sweater, his glasses, his face.

"Best we got," said Roger, sitting down on the sofa and pulling Mimi into his lap.

Mark sighed and stood up, walking over to the flaming garbage can. Script still in hand, he glanced over at Abeth. She smiled at him. Something about her seemed so sweet and innocent in that moment.

_She's such a great kid, he thought, she doesn't deserve this. We do,_ he thought, looking over at his other two friends, both with fading scars lining their arms and guilty consciences hiding behind dulled eyes, _but not her._

He looked down at the script. "It Rained the Day We Met Abeth." It was her birthday present. He figured she would have liked something liked this. But it wasn;t any good. Not really. Not good _enough_.

Mark tossed it in with the newspapers

Abeth brought her knees under her chin. "You okay, Mark?" she asked, concerned, "You look-"

"I'm fine," he interupted. "I'm..." he shook his head, sadly. "I'm going to bed."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Mark's bummed out. He burns the script he was going to give Abeth for her birthday. 


	17. Still In Love

**AN: **I originally intended this chapter to be some sort of one shot, but decided to work it into this story instead.

* * *

"Joanne?"

"Yeah?"

"You still love me, right?"

"Yeah."

Maureen played with the rings on her fingers. "Because... nothing happened."

"I know."

"I just want to make sure that you know."

"I do." Joanne scribbled something someething else onto her yellow legal pad. "Turn on the TV."

"Why?" asked Maureen from the couch.

"I like the background noise."

Maureen flicked on the TV and flipped through a few channels.

"Heard anything from Henry?"

"Nope." Joanne said.

"I guess that's good."

Maureen stopped flipping, just so something could fill up the icy silence.

"Talked to him since?"

"No," Maureen answered, "I swear."

"You fired him?"

"Well, no..."

"_What_?" Joanne cried, slamming down her pen and glaring at Maureen on the sofa in her apartment.

"Well," Maureen said, trying to sound as rational as she could, "if nothing happened, then there's really no-"

"'_If_'?"

"No! No, that just came out wrong..."

Joanne sighed, angrily. "Not only did he take my job, but my girlfriend, too."

"Jo, you said _you_ didn't have enough time! What was-"

"Oh wait, she interupted, coldly, "job implies you get paid. He took my hobby, I guess."

"Can I finish a thought here?"

"You know what, Maureen?" Joanne said, hotly, staring down at her page, "I don't have time for this."

"You started it!" Maureen cried.

"I'm pretty sure _you_ started it when I caught you with your _pants_ around you _ankles_!"

"I already told you-"

"How many times did it happen?" Joanne demanded.

"Jo!"

"_How_ _many_?"

Maureen folded her arms around her chest and glared angrily at the TV.

But her conscience got the best of her.

"Three. It happened three times."

"Fuck," Joanne muttered under her breath. "I knew it."

Laugh tracks and pen scratches distracted them from the quiet.

"You still love me, right?"

"What do you expect me to say to that?"

"The truth."

Joanne sighed, sadly this time.

"You still love me?"

"...yeah."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Maureen cheated on Joanne with Toby, but Joanne still loves her. 


	18. On The Subway

Mark and Abeth sat together on the subway as they rode home. Mark had been getting some shots of the gritty part of New York that society had forgotten about,as well as some as Abeth, for his (hopefully) upcoming documentary. 

At first, Abby had seemed confused by Mark constantly filming things, but she'd gotten used to it. Mark thought that it was eaiser for her to talk in front of a camera lens then in front of people. When it was just him and his camera is when she seemed to open up the most.

What he didn't know was that it was because he was there. It comforted her to know that it was him hiding behind the camera.

Mark felt Abeth's head on his shoulder. She was asleep.

He sighed, staring out the window at the nothing whizzing past him. She was just a kid, bearly 17, but with all she'd seen and all the life she already had behind her, it was as if she were older then him.

But she wasn't.

* * *

Abeth kept her eyes closed and hoped Mark wouldn't try to wake her up.

She wasn't asleep.

She wanted to be close to Mark, just for a little while.

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Not much, it's just a wee chapter. Just wanted to reenforce the fact that Mark thinks Abeth is too young and that Abeth seems to have a crush of some sort on Mark. 


	19. Penny

Green apron tied around her waist, hair pulled back in a braid and in mandatory black, shapeless pants, Abeth stood behind the register at the Food Emporium and waited for the clock to strike three. The day had dragged on, and with every new item she swiped, she felt her brain rot just a little bit more. 

A lady with a bob hair cut was next in line, then a younger woman with blond hair.

"Welcome to Food Emporium, where everything is fresh and..." her voice trailed off as she forgot the rest of the slogan.

Bob Lady placed some eggs, milk and chocolates on the counter. Abeth picked them up and swiped them under the little laser that made that annoying beep sound, that nearly drove her crazy each time she heard it.

She pressed a button on the register. Nothing.

"What the..."

She pressed it again, waiting for the neon green numbers to appear on the little screen. Still, nothing.

"I'm sorry," Abeth said to Bob Lady, "they'll have o help you at the other counter. My machine isn't working."

The lady looked confused. "Well, can _you_ just add it?"

"Uh..."

"It's just $3.50 plus, $2.45, plus $5.69, plus tax."

"I, uh... no, you need to..."

The lady furrowed her brow. "You mean you can't do it?"

"That's not fair," Abeth said, starting to get mad. In reality, she knew she couldn't. She couldn't remember the last time someone had given her a math problem. "If you would just-"

"It's $11.64," said someone.

Abeth looked behind Lady with a Bob to Blondie, who smiled at her. "It's $11.64," she repeated. Lady with a Bob turned around and raised an eyebrow. "I'm... good at math," she explained with a shrug.

The lady threw some money down and left Abeth's counter. Blondie put some peanut butter and soda down. "This is $4.75," she said.

"How do I know you're not lying?" asked Abeth, skeptically. There was something about this girl, but she couldn't place it.

"I guess you don't. Do you want me to go to the next register?" She blew her bangs out of her eyes.

Abeth shook her head. She didn't want the girl to leave before she figured out how she knew her.

"The pop was on sale," Blondie went on to explain, fishing for some change in her bag.

"Pop?" Abeth repeated.

Blondie laughed. "Oh yeah, _soda_, sorry. Forgot where I was."

"You're Canadian, then?"

Blondie nodded. "Yup. From Toronto. A friend of mine goes to school down here, so I'm visiting her for a week. The name's Penny," she smiled.

Instantly, a million memories rushed back into Abeth's mind, clouded her consciousness.

"Yeah... and you're father's name is Jim."

"What? How did you..."

Abeth took a second to collect her thoughts, sort through them, and make sure she wasn't going crazy. But the more she looked at this girl, the more she knew she was right.

"You used to live with a woman named Brenda."

Penny's eyes widened. "Yes... In Catham, but..."

"I'm Abeth," she said quietly.

"But she..."

"I grew up."

Penny reached across the counter and grabbed Abeth's hands, suddenly excited. "You _are_ her! Oh my God... I have to tell my father! What are you doing here? Where are you staying?"

Not wanting to go over the story about Henry again, Abeth sighed. "In a friend's loft, but it's a long story. I'll tell you another time."

"Okay," said Penny, still excited, "that's fair." And idea seemed to hit her. "Oh, you _have_ to come home with me!"

"Oh, no..."

"Why not? You could come live with me and my father, like..." Penny pushed a memory out of her mind. "You could."

Abeth silently mulled over the idea. "But he wouldn't..."

"He _would! _Look, I have to go, but..." She pulled a notepad and pen out of her bag and scribbled something on it. "Meet me here in three days, okay? It's a resturant I know. Let's say... four o'clock?"

Abeth nodded, still stunned.

"Great," smiled Penny. She reached across the counter and gave Abeth an awkward hug. "Hey," she said in all seriousness, "a day doesn't go by that he doesn't think about you."

Abeth nodded. "See you in three days."

* * *

**What I want you to take:** Abeth sucks at math. She meets a girl named Penny that she (somehow) knows from Chatham. They agree to meet in three days.

* * *

**AN:** Ignore my math:S 


	20. Catham

_The door to her mother's room burst open. Jim came through it, crusing and shouting, her mother following him. Jim was holding something in his hand, but Abeth didn't bother to see what it was. The same thing always happened. This wasn't new._

_She sat on the floor, dirty carpet rough against her bare legs. Bright, white light from the TV flickered off her face, as she stared into the screen, transfixed. But there was a new voice, a young one. Abeth was used to her mother and a man fighting, but she turned her head to see the girl._

_"Daddy, stop, maybe isn't lying!"_

_"Penny, I'm not stupid. Of course she is." Jim threw whatever had been clenched in his fist onto the ground._

_"I swear, I've never seen it before!"_

_"Well, Brenda, it isn't mine!"_

_Abeth watched Penny as she tried to sooth her father. She liked Penny. It was the first time the man her mother had staying in their trailer had brought his kid along. Penny was twevle years old, and had always been nice to Abeth, almost like the friend she imagined, the friend she craved._

_She stared back at the TV after the yelling got too loud. This is why she liked to be alone, why she didn't have friends. None of her mother's friends stayed, why should her's? Penny would leave with her father and she would be left to console her mother until she met someone new._

_"You're a good girl," her mother would tell her, eyeliner running down her cheeks, her hair still in curlers. "That's why all the kids like you. It's because you're good."_

_Abeth was only nine, but she knew it was a lie. The children liked her because she cooked them dinner when their parents were too drunk to wake up. They liked her because she knew how to change diapers, she helped with homework, and she would listen to them. Rarely did she give advice to anyone, or express an opinion, but at least she listened. That seemed to be enoguh._

_The teary confessions of children weighed heavey on her heart, but harder then anything was watching her mither cry after another man left. And it was always her fault. Abeth knew. Her mother did this to herself, and expected Abeth to pick her up again._

_She forced herself back into present day._

_They had moved to the door leading outside of the trailer._

_"I don't care, Brenda!"_

_"Jimmy, please. Don't you love me? You said you loved me."_

_Penny leaned against the wall, face burried in her hands. "Stop shouting!" she begged. It almost surprised Abeth that there was someone out there who wasn't used to this._

_"That wasn't my watch, those weren't my shoes and that isn't my belt! Did you think I wouldn't notice?"_

_"Baby..."_

_"He must have left in a hurry," Jim said, bitterly. "How?"_

_"Huh?"_

_"How'd he get out without me seeing?" he cried._

_Fake tears slipped messily down Brenda's face. "You're wrong, Jim!"_

_Abeth felt bad. Jim had been a good one. One of the only good ones. He laughed a lot, and he had Penny. He never hit her. He didn't even hit Brenda._

_Jim pushed the door open, angrily._

_Abeth considered telling him about the window in the bedroom that Brenda had always told his was broken. She decided it best to look back at the TV. She didn't want to watch Penny leave. Again, she lost herself in bright colours and commerical jingles._

_"Penny, come on!"_

_"Daddy!"_

_"Jim, why don't you believe me? Why would I lie to you?"_

_"Because, Bren," he said, pulling Penny through the door, "it's what you do. God forbid you try to be happy, have a normal relationship!"_

_"You really think I slept with someone?"_

_"Of course you did, you're a whore."_

_"Daddy!" Penny sobbed, pulling away from him. She stood in the dark outside the trailer._

_"Go ahead, insult me again, in front of my little daughter!"_

_For the first time that night, Jim remembered Abeth, the quiet little girl who watched too much TV and made supper for the kids in the next trailer every night._

_"Abeth," he said softly. "Abby?"_

_Hearing her name, Abeth pulled herself out of her daze and looked over at Jim in the doorway. "Come here."_

_This was new. This never happened. It caught her off gaurd, and Abeth had too look to her mother to see what she was supposed to do. Brenda just motioned to Jim._

_Standing up, she walked over to one of the only kind men she'd ever met._

_"Hey, kiddo," he said kindly, taking her hand. "Look, me and Penny... we're leaving."_

_"I know."_

_"Do you... do you want to come with us?"_

_"Oh, fuck you, Jim!" Brenda screamed, pushing him away from her daughter. Her tears were gone know and she only seemed agnry._

_"Let her answer!"_

_"You can't take her, that's kidnapping!"_

_Jim looked back to Abeth, scanning her face for an answer._

_It would be fun, getting to stay with Penny. Maybe they'd be like real sisters. And Jim would make sure she was safe. He'd always make her wear her coat and feed her lunch. He'd do normal, grown -up things._

_"Abeth isn't going anywhere with you, fucker. How dare you? Assuming I wouldn't mind if you just took my kid from me!"_

_"Brenda..." he said, steadying himself. "I'm done with you. I'm not speaking to you right now, this is between me and Abeth."_

_Brenda put her arm around Abeth. "Stay with your mommy," she whispered in her ear. "He'll hit you. He only loves Penny."_

_Abeth peered through the door at the still scared little blond gril, shivering out in the chilly Canadian-Novermber air._

_"Sweetie?"_

_She knew her mother was lying. She knew she'd have a good life if she just went with them._

_But obligation weighed heavey on her shoulders._ One day_, she thought,_ I'll leave this place. One day I'll go somewhere new, better, different

_"No," she said simply, pushing auburn ringlets out of her face. "I can't."_

_"You can," Jim said kindly, "I'll make sure."_

_"I won't."_

_Brenda hugged her daughter. "You're good," she murmured. "I always knew you were good."_

_Abeth watched Jim's face fall as he stepped out the door and joined his daughter. It was the first time anyone seemed upset over Abeth. More often then not people wanted her to leaven them, not come with them. _

_Jim said something quietly to Penny. Shesuddenly turned to Abeth and Brenda. "Abby!" she cried. Jim grabbed her by the arms._

_"No, Pens, let's go."_

_"But..."_

_"Bye, Penny," Abeth said, giving a small wave._

_Brenda slapped her arm. "You shouldn't be nice to the people who hurt your mommy."_

_Abeth brought her hand back down._

_Jim and Penny got into an old, blue car._

_Brenda walked away from Abeth, standing in the doorway of the trailer. "His name," she called after them as the car pulled away, "was Henry! And he was fucking better then you!"_

_Abeth sat back down in fronrt of the TV, watching happy people running through Times Square, in (what seemed like) a magical, far away land called New York._

People are happy there_, Abeth thought._

* * *

**What I want you to take: **This just kind of explains how Abeth knew Penny, but I know its long and a little over dramatic. Also, I referenced Henry again. (Virtual cupcake if you caught that.) Also, Abeth's love of New York is (kinda) born.


	21. Conversation

"She wants you to go live with them?" Mark exclaimed. "In _Tortonto_?" 

"Yeah that's what she said," Abeth said, eyes still downcast, watching the pavement pass under her feet.

"That's... fantastic! Isn't it fantastic?" he asked, noticing that she seemed to be upset.

The two friends were once again pacing the side streets of New York, Mark's camera in hand.

"Yes. It's fantastic. It's just..." she sighed, looking away from her friend, "I'll have to leave."

"You'll welcome the monotony of Canadian suberbia after leaving this place," Mark said with a smile.

"Mark... I don't even _know_ these people."

"You didn't know us," he pointed out. He swung his arm around her shoulders. "Turned out all right, didn't it?"

Abeth smiled. "Yeah, it did."

Mark set his camera down on a bench and turned so that he and Abeth were facing each other. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and gazed intently at her. His cool, blue eyes nearly made Abeth shiver, despite the warming air.

"This is the best thing that could have happened," he said, earnestly. "You can go back to school, live with people who have enough money to..."

"I don't care about money," she said, flatly. "I dont care," she said, helplessly, "about any of it. I like it here."

Mark sighed, dropping his hands and picking up his camera. "You need to realize how good this is, Abby," he said, quietly. "Here... here is nowhere."

"I thought you said it was the centre of the universe."

"Someone told me that... a long time ago. But sometimes," he sighed, "I'm not so sure... Think of all the opportunities you've missed!"

Abeth looked over at Mark beside her and thought about opportunities she wasted, instead.

"We're here," Mark went on, "because.. it's where we ended up. Where we chose. You know?"

"What if I chose here?"

"You can. But... are you ready to make that choice?"

"Oh _please_," she said with a huff, "don't patronize me. I'm not some child you need to watch over. What are you, four years older then me?"

"Five."

She shook her head, angrily. "You can be just as bad as Roger."

"Sorry," he said, softly. "I just... I just want you to have it good, you know? Be happy, don't worry, all that crap."

There was noithing but honesty in his voice and she couldn't help but forgive him.

"I guess I'd just miss it here," she said after a while.

"You could always come back."

Abeth nodded.

"I'd miss you if you left," Mark said.

She tried hid her smile.

"We all would. But you have to know it's for the best."

"... I know."

Mark held up his camera. "Now smile for me, movie star."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Abeth told Mark about meeting Penny and the two talk about her actually going to live with her and her father. Abeth doesn't want to, but Mark knows its for the best.

* * *

**AN: **I think I made Mark too young. If he's five years older then Abeth, that means he's 22. Anyways, it really doesn't matter. Just know that the point is he older.


	22. Found

Abeth heard the door push open, but she didn't look up.

She felt like an idiot, sitting there alone in the Life Cafe. Like the styerotypical teenagers she hated, she had stormed off from the loft in an adolscent rage, after Roger had once again drilled her about school.

After wandering the dark streets of New York, she thankfully stumbled on one of the few places she recognized.

She stared at the cold tea in front of her. She was trying to make it last as long as she could, so she wouldn't be acused of loitering. Of course, she hadn't thought to bring any money.

She needed a mircle, one that made this whole stupid situation go away. One that gave her a place to go, a face she recognized, or even a few bucks to buy something.

Glancing out the dark window, she realized that Alphabet City wasn't exactly the place where mircles happened. Again, her thoughts drifted back to Penny and Jim, back to Canada and Toronto, and she couldn't help but think that finding Penny was a mircle in itself. What other mircles surrounded these people? What would her life be like with them?

It didn't matter. How could she leave this place? These people? Their sing-song voices? Their laughs? Mark? She pushed the name out of her mind.

Roger's voice had been far from sing-song that night. They'd both lost their temper, yelled and said things they hadn't meant. At least, she didn't mean it.

_Well, I_ did_. I just didn't it to sound so_ mean

Somone slid in the seat in front of her. She jumped, then relaxed, realizing who it was.

"How long have you been here?" she asked, quietly.

"Long enough to watch you stare out the window, moping, looking like a lost puppy-dog."

"Really? I was trying for sad kitty-cat."

"You failed. Miserably."

Abeth smiled. Mark always made her feel better, even if she wasn't sure why. She tried her best not to stare at him to long, watch him too closely.

"How'd you find me?"

"Fluke. Just walked in. Waiter said you were over here, drinking tea."

"Yeah... I can't pay for it."

"Doesn't matter," he said with a smile, leaning across the table. "I never do."

"So... you're here to drag me home?"

"Pretty much. Everyone's looking for you."

"What?" she cried.

Mark nodded. "Yeah, we called Maureen and Joanne and Collins."

"Why?"

"You disapeared for hours," he said flatly, almost angrily. "What did you want us to do?"

Abeth lowered her head. "Sorry."

"...It's okay."

"I... I don't really want to go back," she admitted.

"I know. But it doesn't matter."

Abeth was taken back. Where was sweet, kind Mark? Why wasn't he trying to make her feel better?

He went on. "We're a family," he explained, "and you're like... like the little sister. And we're watching out for you."

"Because," she said, almost with a sneer, "you know what's best for me?"

Mark paused, thinking. "Yeah. Together, we do. If it had been Joanne who'd run off, we'd bring her home, too."

"Not if she didn't want to go."

"We would if she had nowhere else to go, and no money to find somewhere to stay."

He was right.

Abeth sighed. "I feel like an idiot."

Mark shrugged, standing up. "We all do, eventually."

Abeth stood up, too.

Arms around her shoulders, her face burried in fabric. She inhaled, memorizing.

"Don't do that again," came a soft voice above her. Abeth nodded into his chest, holding onto the front of this coat.

Mark let go of her, and walked out of the cafe.

Abeth's mind reeled, her paulse raced. But the words "little sister" floated through her mind, an annoying reminder of the role she didn't want to play. Not here, anyways.

_But I _could be_ someone's little sister._

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Abeth ran away and stopped at the Life Cafe. Mark found her and took her back home.

* * *

**AN: **This chapter used to be SO much longer, but I knew I had to cut it down. It started with Abeth and Roger fighting, Abeth leaving, everyone finding out she left, then everyone looking for her. She also ended up talking to Benny somehow. The part where Mark found her was actuallu a lot shorter, but I realized it was the only real important part. If you really care, I'll post the rest, though I'm assuming you don't.


	23. Meeting

They sat in front of a big window in a pretty little restaurant that served coffee in heavy ceramic mugs. The little booths on each side of the table were soft and squishy and more comfortable then anything Abeth had sat on in a while. 

"So," Penny said, smiling, sitting across the table form Abeth, "what have you been up to?"

Abeth tried to return the smile, but couldn't bring herself to. This was all too weird, too fast, too much of a coincidence. "Did someone... call you?" she asked. "Did you know I was here?"

Penny laughed and shook her head. "No! Isn't it the wildest thing that we meet? At a cheap grocery store, too." Her blond pony tail swung from side to side as she giggled. "But, I'm so glad we did! You said you were staying with friend?"

Abeth nodded. "There are four of us in a loft."

"Sounds good," Penny said, "but it must be hard. Do you work full time?"

"Yeah... but it's not so bad. We have good times, you know?" She decided it was best to push the 'bad times' out of her mind, if only temporarily.

"Well, that's good. But I still want you to think about my offer." Penny took a sip of the iced tea she was drinking. "Dad says he'd love to have you."

Abeth thought about it. Living with Jim and Penny in Toronto... She felt like Cinderella being swept off to the prince's castle. The only trouble was, she wasn't exactly sure if she wanted to go. Why leave this place? She was... pretty comfortable, and usually happy. And there was no Mark in Toronto.

"I don't know..." Abeth mumbled. "It's been years since he's seen me..."

"So what?" Penny cired. "He misses you, really. He'd send you to school. You could even have your own room," she smiled.

Abeth thought about her cot in the living room of the loft. She remembered her first night on it, how she couldn't get to sleep. It's been a long time since she'd slept in an actual bed.

"How would I even get there?" Abeth asked. "It's not like I have a car, and there's no way I could afford..."

"I'm flying home in a few days. Dad is expecting you to come off that plane, too! And, as for affording things, Dad has... come into money," she said as tactfully as she could.

"How?"

"Investments... stocks... I don't know," Penny shrugged. "Something about computers. Apparently they're the way of the furutre."

Abeth sighed. "I'm not sure..."

Penny looked down at her napkin, starting to rip it into little pieces. "If you didn't like it," she said quietly, not looking up, "you could always leave. We'd pay for you to come back here, back to your friends."

Abeth forced herself to smile. Penny seemed so depressed at the thought of her leaving, and she hadn't even agreed to come with her yet. "I'm sorry I can't feel more excited about this... there are just so many people here..."

"A boyfriend?" Penny asked.

Abeth shook her head. "No. Just friends."

"You could always write to him, you know," she said with a smile.

"Who?" Abeth couldn't help but cry playfully.

Penny smiled, too. "This _boy_."

"There is no _boy_, Pens."

"Puh_-lease_," Penny laughed, "I've seen it a million times before. You're _smitten_!"

"_Smitten_?" she repeated, an eyebrow raised. "Do people still use that word?"

"Well... I do."

Abeth laughed. "Well, that's all that matters then. And... you're right. I could always write to him."

Penny smiled understandingly and patted Abeth's hand. She glanced down at her watch. "Oh, I've got to fly, sorry." She threw some money down onto the table and jotted down her number on napkin. "Call me before Friday. That's when the plane leaves. If you're coming, I'll pick you up and we'll go home together. If you're not..." she shrugged. "I'll just assume you are."

Abeth smiled, taking the number from her. "Thanks."

She watched Penny scurry out the door, then stared down at the number in front of her. Toronto. She'd never been. They said it was Canada's New York, but somehow she knew that it would be nothing like this place.

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Abeth met with Penny and the two talked about going home with her. Abeth and Penny get along well.


	24. Think It Out

_It makes so much sense to go. And, really, what am I afraid of? Things will be good there. Things will be_ better _there._

_But what about my friends? That's what they are. Friends. The first real ones I think I've ever had... Maureen, Joanne, Roger, Collins, Mimi, Mark._

_(Mark)_

_Stop it._

_Grow up, Abby. You're acting like... a teenager._

_Damn it._

Seventeen_. What a stupid age._

_Okay, stay on track. You have a decsion to make._

_(You? Who's you? Who the hell are you talking to?)_

_What was I thinking about?_

_Oh yeah, them._

_Why can't I bring myself to even_ think _about leaving them? Yeah, I'll miss them, but I've dealt with missing people before._

_(All those kids. How could you leave them alone? Do you remember what-)_

_(Forget regret.)_

_They'll forget me._

_That's it, what I'm scared of._

_(Isn't it?)_

_What if I leave and they forget me? I'll never forget them... So I'll be some kid stuck in the frozen tundra of Ontario, pining after a group of friends back in just-as-froze New York? Friends that probably can't remember what she looked like, let alone her name?_

_(You're being vain. Think logically. Be logical.)_

_Maybe they_ won't _forget me... How could forget the times we had?_

_(Up on the table; piggy-back home.)_

_(They don't forget people. They remember Angel, they remember Benny.)_

_Wow... with everything that's happened, I could write a book._

_(Mimi told me she had AIDS; I fought with Roger; Henry; Mark looks right through me. Whattah book it's be.) _

_Hmmm. I probably could, you know._

_(You?)_

_Who'd read it?_

_They might._

_(Immortal. Never forgotten. Pages saving the moments that will pass away from you. From them.)_

_(Images saved on his screen, feelings remembered through your ink.)_

_(That's poetic... That's pathetic.)_

_But how can I write an entire book without graduating highschool?_

_(It's been done.)_

_How can I do anything?_

_It's time to grow up. Be logical. Roger is right._

_(If only he could hear my thoughts...)_

_(Thoughts being heard? Oh God, spare me the thought. What would Mark say?)_

_Okay, enough of this. Descide._

_Now...!_

Stay.

_...No. How can I? They_ want _me to go. He wants me to go, too. And Penny said I could come back._

_Leave. Write that book._

_(Can I? ...Why not?)_

_Who would read it?_

_Penny might. And Jim. I could even send a copy to them._

_(Roger hates reading.)_

_(I'll send his on a music staff.)_

_So that's it?_

_Life altering decsion made, just like that?_

_Yes. That's it._

_(There isn't even a choice. You have to.)_

_And, whwo knows? Maybe they'll miss me._

* * *

Abeth lifted herself up off the cot, pulling Penny's number out of her pants pocket as she reached the phone.

She dialed.

"Hello? Penny? It's Abeth..."

* * *

**What I want you to take: **Abeth descides to leave New York and go home with Penny. She consoles herself with the idea of writing a book.

* * *

**AN: **Yes, these are Abeth's thoughts. Cheesy, I know, but the whole story is kind of cheesey. I thought it would be the easiest way to let you know what she wanted to do. 


	25. Without You

**AN: **Finally! The last chapter...

* * *

They all stood outside the loft, watching her swing her bag over her shoulder. The car waited for her on the road.

Abeth hugged them all. Joanne wiped away tears. Even Roger seemed upset she was leaving.

She hugged Mark. She knew she loved him, knew that she always had, but he didn't feel the same. She was just a kid, at least in his eyes. But he hugged her, hard, and said that he'd miss her.

"It's right you're going," he said to her, holding onto her hands.

She willed herself not to cry, not look like the child she vowed not to be.

"But, we'll miss you. Write that book," he smiled. "I can't wait to read it."

Abeth rolled her eyes, smiling sadly.

Mimi leaned over and kissed her cheek. "See you later, chica."

"Stay well," Abeth said, rubbing her arm.

She would miss them. So, _so_ much.

Abeth turned away from her friends, away from the life she thought she'd be able to live forever, and walked to the car waiting to take her to the airport. She could see Penny's silhouette inside.

The past few months raced through her mind.

_Sitting on a curb,_

_Opening Christmas presents,_

_Lumpy cot,_

_Standing in front of a wall,_

_Dancing on table tops,_

_Smiling,_

_Crying._

_All their words,_

_All their melodies,_

_All their love._

She stopped, suddenly. She remembered.

_Forget regret or life is your's to miss._

Forcing herself to be bold, she turned on her heel, back to her friends.

She walked quickly up to him, not giving herself time to realize what she was doing.

_How can I live with myself if I don't?_

None of them moved, unsure of what she was doing.

She placed her hands lightly on Mark's shoulder and, standing up slightly on her tip-toes, she kissed him. Softly, lightly. His lips parted. Just a little. Just enough. Mind wild. Mind deathly still. High.

Finally her thoughts caught up with her.

_What am I_ doing

Embarrassed, she let go of him, staring down at the sidewalk. It occurred to her to stay there, to look up, to gage his reaction. But she couldn't bring herself to. Trying to block out what she could almost hear them saying about it as she half ran back to the car, she realized she really was a young as they thought she was.

Her hand on the door, she looked back, just for a second, hoping they wouldn't notice.

Everything seemed normal. Mimi's head was on Roger's shoulder, Joanne whispered something to Maureen that made her frown, Collins lit the cigarette he had kept behind his ear.

And Mark looked... like he always looked. Lonely, lost, overwhelmed.

But he was looking like that at _her_.

She forced herself into the car.

Penny looked over at her.

"So, that's him?"

Abeth didn't say anything. As the car pulled away, she crawled into the back seat, and looked out the window, watching as the most inmportant people in her life got smaller and smaller.

_Stop, stop, stop. Let me out._

She swore she saw Mark take a step forward.

_Come after me._

She heard Penny sigh.

"Listen, Abs, I know you're crushed and all right now, but... you're only 17."

"That's been pointed out more then once," she said coldly, still looking out the window.

Penny went on. "It's not like you won't have another crush."

_Crush_. What the fuck would she know about it?

Penny looked over at her, blue eyes brimming with a new-found sisterly sympathy. "Sorry... You really loved this guy, didn't you?"

_Don't cry._

"Yeah."

"Well, like I've said all along, you can always come back. This moment's not the last."

Looking straight ahaead of her now, Abeth nodded, letting these new words, Penny's words, register with her. _This moment's not the last._

"You know... you're right. It just..." Abeth shrugged, searching for the word.

"Sucks," Penny gave with a smile.

Abeth nodded. She turned around again, just in time to see her friends finally fade away. But she wouldn't cry, she wouldn't be sad.Life didn't end now. Love didn't end now. Things were just beginning for her.

And besides, something in her told her this wouldn't be the last time she kissed Mark Cohen.

The End

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**What I want you to take:** Okay... no Cole's Notes here. It's the last chapter! Just read it! :P

**AN:** I'm done!! Wow. This is the longest thing I think I've ever written. Thank you so much for reading this far! And thanks for all your reviews. At the risk of sounding like th cliche teenage girl I am, you, like, totally rule.


	26. Final Notes

Wow... _wow_.

I have never done something this long... ever.

Considering this story was such an... _ordeal_, I decided to add some of my final notes, just incase anyone cares.

Originally, most of these chapters, particularly the longer ones, were just oneshots I wrote involving this new character, Abeth. Eventually I ended up stringing them together in my mind. And then I thought, _hey, why not post this somewhere_?

It was all kind of helter sketler, and I'll be the first to admit that not everything fits together perfectly. Believe it or not, but this story was supposed to be a LOT longer.

The chapter "Found", for example, wasn't just Mark finding Abeth that the Life. It was Abeth fighting with Roger, her stprming off, Mark coming home, Mark going out to look for her, Abeth sitting int he cafe, Mimi coming home, Roger calling Maureen, Joanne and Collins, Mark still looking for Abeth, Abeth meeting Benny, everyone going out to look for Abeth (_inhales deeply_) and _THEN_ Mark finding Abeth.

And, if you'll notice, Collins, Maureen and Joanne aren't around all that often towards the end. This was an accident, but I just had to cut some things out! There was actually a chapter I liked where Collins, MoJo, and Abeth went shopping (or something like that). Abeth admitted that she was actually in love with Mark to Collins, and he told her that there was no way Mark loved her back. It was sad, but I liked it. But, it was mostly just in my head, and I decided against putting it in there. I thought everything that was to be said in it had already been said a million times.

I originally intended for Collins and Abeth to have a really strong bond. I guess I just figured with Collins being a professor and all, it would be easy for him to get along with someone who could have been his student in a few years. But, I don't think this really came through.

And, let me just throw this in here, I know I _suck_ at naming chapters. Just look at the totaly of the story! "Abeth"? I couldn't get more creative then _that_??

There was a another sweet moment I was sorry to throw out, but it really didn't fit in with what I was doing. At one point in the story, Mark asks Abeth when her birthday is. This wasn't meant to be as random as it seemed. He and the gang were going to pool their money and take Abeth the see a play. This didn't really seem to fit any of the characters or the story well, so, instead, her preasent was to be shown all of the "touritsy" places in New York. I liked this idea because Broadway, the Statue of Liberty, Times Square, etc. are the reasons Abeth fell in love with New York in the first place.

There was another storyline that I threw out. Mimi got really sick and ended up in the hospital. Abeth, being torn up by this, found God. (I think she mentions God a few times, actually.) Collins began to resent her for it, having always denounced organized religion himself. But, eventually, he was able to accept this, and even, in his own nonconventional way, embrase it. There was also a nice "Angel moment" with him.

That brings me to another thing. No Angel! I knew this story was going to be post-Rent, but it killed me to have to leave out Angel!

* * *

Now, I know Abeth's wanting to write a book came kind of randomly, but, in the original "cut" of the book, she always wanted to be a writer. In parts of the story that I cut, she would take Mark's bike and ride down to the library. She was always reading, and kept a journal. _Buuut_... this seemed a little to "Mary Sue" to me. I mean, she was my age, from Canada, and in love with Mark Cohen. I didn't want to push it.

That's another reason the play idea was thrown out.

A wee note about Henry... originally there was a lot more of him, and he treated Abeth a lot worse. But I didn't really want to have her have all this emotional trama. (I'll admitt her childhood is a bit far fetched, taking care of other kids and all... but I wanted to show that she was forced to grow up quickly.) I widittled the "inncident" down to him just coming onto her in a club. Would this make a 16 year old girl run away in a country she knew nothing about? Dunno. But, hey, that's what happened. :P

A few time I also have Mark say/think that he doesn't like Abeth is very pretty. It's not that I wanted her to be ugly, but I a) didn't want Mark to seem pervy and b) I didn't want her to be some sexy teenager that stole the lonely guy's heart.

* * *

A note on the names. Penny was named after Penny Witmore, from Lost (yes, I am a Lost-a-holic) and Jim was named after Jim Halpert from The Office (I am also a huge Office fan).

Abeth's name has a weird story... I was walking through an arcade and I saw the name one of the screens over top pf some leather-clad, gun-slinging sex kitten, and thought,_ hmm, Abeth... I like that name._ And ... voila!

* * *

Now, about a squeal... yes, there is one in the making. But, as you probably know by now, when I write, I write very _sloooowly_. But it will come.

Actually, I wanted to post the squeal first. It was really the story I liked better. But, I knew I needed to get some of this backstory out of the way. I never meant for it to get to be 25 chapters long! Hopefully, I'll be a little more organized with my next story, and actually finsih the plot line I start! :P

Again, thank you all for your reviews!!11!!1!!one!!


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